
0 



IRARY OF CONGRESS. 

'MVS 

Chap. Copyright No. 

Shell S_HA2Jo 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



FOOTPRINTS 

MY OWN LIFE 



I HEREBY ACKNOWLEDGE THE GOOD 
HAND OF GOD, IN LEADING ME FROM 
THE BEGINNING UNTIL NOW 

E. H. Stokes, D. D. 



ASBURY 


PARK, N. J. 


M., W. & C. 


PENNYPACKER 




1898 




♦ 




Copyright 1898, by 
M., W. & C. Pennypackkr. 
All Rights Reserved. 




TWO COPIES RECEIVED. 



2na 



NOTE. 

" Upon these sea-bleached sands I wrote my name, 
but one swell of the rising waters wiped it out forever; 
so will the fast flowing billows of time soon erase my 
name from the records of earth, and the world will 
pass on as though a generation of us had never 
existed. ' ' It was these thoughts that inspired Foot- 
prints. Often had the author looked upon the foot- 
prints in the sand and beheld them soon erased by one 
dash of the foaming billows. Likewise he viewed the 
cherished events in his life and he foresaw that like 
the footprints upon the sand, they too would be 
effaced. In a strongly bound, cloth covered volume, 
of perhaps his own manufacture, he transcribed in a 
faultless manner the following pages, which the pub- 
lishers have reproduced almost without a change. It 
is solely with a desire to preserve from the billows of 
time these footprints in an earnest Christian life, that 
we place this volume before the public. 

Th£ Publishers. 

July 16th, 1898. 



Press of 
W. & C. Pennypackeb, 
Seaside Torch Print." 



CONTENTS 



Eari,y Recollections .... 9 

Religious Convictions .... 20 

Capability Must be Acquired ... 29 

An Itinerant Minister .... 43 

Gloucester City Charge . . . . 52 

Clinton Circuit ..... 64 

Newark, Morristown and Belleville . . 86 

New Brunswick 97 

Camden and Trenton .... 109 

New Brunswick and Trenton again . . 114 

Ocean Grove . . . . . . 121 

A Tribute ...... 125 



FOOTPRINTS 



FOOTPRINTS. 

CHAPTER I. 

EARLY RECOLLECTIONS. 

/ \ /^\>^- ancestors, as far back as I have 
l^plfe^^-* an ^ knowledge, were members of the 
\^^^^^^^^ religious Society of Friends ; my par- 
^jlHljS3||? ents, Caleb and Ruth Stokes, being 
of that Society at the time of my birth, which took 
place at Medford, Burlington County, New Jersey, 
October 10, 1815. I had of course what is usually 
termed a birthright membership with that people. 

At the time and place of my birth, educational 
advantages for persons in my circumstances were 
few and inferior. The newspaper, secular or re- 
ligious, did not visit us, books were scarce, the 
Sabbath school did not exist, and all we knew of 
divine worship in any form was the First, and 
sometimes the Fifth, day morning meeting. 

My mother, however, was fond of reading the 
Bible, and I well remember the awe which often 
rested on my mind as I heard her read aloud the 



10 



FOOTPRINTS. 



story of the patriarchs and prophets. Back to the 
remotest period of my recollection, when reason 
had just commenced its dawnings, my mind revolved 
and re-revolved crude thoughts of God, the soul, 
and heaven. 

The great Brick Meeting-House, erected the year 
before I was born, which still stands precisely as it 
was originally built, without the addition or sub- 
traction of a single thing, always solemnized my 
thoughts as I passed, and seemed to say to me, in 
tender tones, be good. Beside the meeting-house, 
in the plain, quiet graveyard, lay my ancestors for 
generations, and I used to tread the grounds of the 
sacred inclosure with almost superstitious reverence, 
as it seemed to me but a short step from that place 
to the eternal world. 

In the rear of the meeting-house yard was the 
old school-house, where by the aid of my dear old 
Uncle Job and my saintly Cousin Ester Jones, I re- 
ceived the first rudiments of my education. Here 
I shall never forget how the larger boys, with the 
use of a single-blade Barlow knife — no mean posses- 
sion in those days, — used to cut, with sacreligious 
purpose, the seats, desks (forms we used to call 
them), and even the clap-boards on the outside, 
until, in their spirit of vandalism, it would seem as 
if they were determined to whittle the poor old 



EARLY RECOLLECTIONS. 



11 



house entirely away. It was while at this school, 
when, as nearly as I can remember, I was about 
six years old, I made my first attempt at chewing 
tobacco. It was fortunate, if I must commence this 
work at all, that I commenced so early. It was 
also a never to be forgotten event. The winter 
was on us. Three neighboring boys and two of 
my elder brothers, with myself, were going to the 
adjoining forests, the larger boys to cut wood, while 
I was to gather chips and do any little chores that 
might be necessary. The neighbor boys used to- 
bacco. They were free in its distribution and asked 
us each to take a chew. I took a piece about half 
an inch long and began to eat it. In a few min- 
utes I was deathly sick. My brothers and the other 
boys were frightened, and gathering a great quan- 
tity of dry leaves, made a bed for me, and then at 
a sufficient distance to insure safety, built a huge 
fire to keep me warm. After a few hours, under 
the careful nursing of my brothers, I had sufficiently 
recovered to be able to get home, where I told the 
story of my sickness, to the amusement, and I think 
the hearty satisfaction, of my parents, who did not 
wish their youngest son, especially at this early 
period of his life, to become addicted to this wide- 
spread and unpleasant vice. This was the beginning 
and ending of my tobacco -chewing experience. 



12 



FOOTPRINTS. 



Subsequently to this, my parents removed to a 
farm at Fostertown, about three miles distant, and 
half-way between Medford and I,umberton. The 
history of the school life of those days would form 
a chapter full of sad interest, in comparison with 
the advantages of the present time. We attended 
school at the Brace Road School-house. The trus- 
tees were most of them Friends, and yet, so poorly 
was the country supplied with teachers, that either 
through negligence or necessity, they employed an 
ignorant Irishman for teacher, who was drunk half 
of his time ; and while he, during the regular school 
hours, slept at his desk, the whole school, composed 
of the sons and daughters of the members of 
"Friends' Meeting," full of fun and frolic as we 
were, turned out upon the floor, and while some of 
our number whistled or sung a lively tune, we danced 
as best we could ; and so stupified was our teacher 
with liquor that none of these things moved him. 

Thus taught at school, my brother next to myself 
in age, and myself thought we would practice at 
home what we had so well learned there, and so 
took a reel or two on the barn-floor, directly in 
front of the house. My mother, who had a vigilant 
eye and kept a careful watch over her children, 
hearing the songs and sounds of clattering feet, 
called us before her and asked us what it meant. 



EARLY RECOLLECTIONS. 



13 



We told her we had learned it at school. " Learned 
it, at school ! " she exclaimed in surprise ; " Quakers 
sending their children to dancing-school, and paying 
for it too — a pretty state of things indeed. Well, 
let me see no more of this at home, and I will see 
there is no more of it at school.' 9 And so she did. 
There was one of the most influential of the trus- 
tees, Dr. E. Page, who lived at Cross Roads, a mile 
or so away, and who generally passed our house 
several times a day in the work of his practice. 
The first time he came, my mother hailed him in 
the middle of the road. She recited to him the 
recent exploits of her boys in the barn, and gave 
him to understand, with as much firmness of pur- 
pose as Luther showed when he nailed his thesis to 
the church door, that there must be a reformation. 
And there was ! We had no more drunken school- 
masters after that ; though the intellectual ascent 
was but slight. Indeed, the whole school system 
and practice of those days was but an apology for 
education. 

When I was about eleven years old, having en- 
joyed no better school advantages than those referred 
to, my parents, with all their children, seven in num- 
ber, four sons and three daughters, of whom, save 
one sister, I was the youngest, removed to the city 
of Philadelphia. This opened to us all new fields 



14 



FOOTPRINTS. 



of observation and better opportunities of improve- 
ment. Shortly after our removal I was introduced 
to what was then considered a good school. Here, 
having reached a period when I began to feel the 
value of education, I improved rapidly, and could I 
have remained, should have been greatly benefitted 
through life. But the circumstances of my father 
were such as to require him to take me from school 
too soon, and place me at something where I 
could aid in my own support. Accordingly, when 
only thirteen years of age I became an indentured 
apprentice to Mr. James Crissey as a bookbinder, 
and went through all the grades of that business 
from errand-boy at one dollar a week, my parents 
finding food and clothing, up to foreman of the 
establishment, which position I occupied at the time 
I commenced the ministry, at the largest wages 
received by anyone in that business at that time. 

My apprenticeship had all the usual varieties of 
boyhood life ; many things I then thought hard I 
now see were right and good, and altogether best 
for me. But while I thought some things a little 
hard, my boyhood had a great deal of sunshine in 
it, and I had much of real joy. My employer was 
a stern man, having no intercourse whatever with 
those around him but the simple command, "do" 
or "do not." This was the end of all communi- 



EARLY RECOLLECTIONS. 



15 



cation, and his subordinates never replied but in 
monosyllables, "yes," or "no." During the fifteen 
years of my continuance with him, I do not sup- 
pose there were fifteen words uttered between us 
that were not absolutely necessary to the business 
in hand. This may seem strange, and to some 
improper ; perhaps it was, and yet it gave me a 
reverence for those whose stations were above my 
own which has been retained to the present time. 
But while I record this of his stern and unsocial 
character, I wish to record also that he was a man 
of the strictest integrity, fulfilling his engagements 
to the letter, discharging every week at a given 
hour, without any failure whatever, all his obliga- 
tions to the last cent to all about him, from the 
smallest boy to the oldest man ; and to all his 
apprentices who were faithful he uniformly gave, 
as they increased in usefulness, from a half to one 
dollar per week more than his written contract called 
for, and on the Fourth of July and Christmas, the 
only two holidays of the year, he gave them, accord- 
ing to age and faithfulness, from one to three dollars 
each, as a special gift. 

Another fact I mention with special gratitude in 
this connection, as it became a necessity at so early 
a period of my life to do something towards my 
own support. I have always regarded it as a most 



16 



FOOTPRINTS. 



fortunate circumstance that my way was opened to 
a business that led me constantly to deal with 
books. In this way, even in business hours, I 
became acquainted with authors, and gathered up 
scraps of information which I must long have re- 
mained ignorant of had I been assigned to a busi- 
ness of different character. Added to this, I was 
deeply interested in the business, and without an 
effort learned to love many of the books with which 
I was surrounded, and as I could not go to school, 
the work in which I was engaged was the next 
best thing. 

Very early in my history the following fact oc- 
cured, and as it has always been like a plot of 
sunshine, I relate it for the real pleasure it gives 
to me. 

On a bright and beautiful morning, towards the 
close of the month of May, a half-dozen of us boys 
resolved on a little floral expedition to the country, 
for the double purpose of our own gratification and 
the surprise of our mothers or sisters by the presen- 
tation of a beautiful bouquet of flowers. We started 
off by a little after daylight in high glee, each one, 
save myself, with just enough money to make the 
contemplative purchase. I was penniless ! Arriving 
at or near the spot where the Girard College now 
stands, we came to a little low cottage, almost 



EARLY RECOLLECTIONS. 



17 



concealed from view by the luxuriant foliage and 
beautiful shrubbery of the grounds surrounding it. 
Flowers of varied hues were greeting the eye, and 
loading the air with their rich perfumes. The birds 
were regaling themselves in the fresh morning at- 
mosphere, or warbling their early songs in those 
blushing bowers. At first sight of this lovely spot 
a kind of ' ' Eureka ' ' shout burst from every lip, and 
with the rapidity of thought we dashed through the 
gate and down the gravel walk until we reached 
the dwelling. A matronly-looking old lady, of three- 
score years or more, with white apron, clean muslin 
cap, and bright spectacles, stood before us. At her 
side was dangling a pair of scissors, of convenient 
size, bright with constant use. In grave astonish- 
ment she looked through her glasses at the boister- 
ous group before her, while a shout went up from 
all but myself (my poverty kept me silent), " We 
want to buy your flowers, Ma'am." "Give me the 
handsomest bunch of all," cried one, without waiting 
for a reply from the old lady as to whether she would 
sell the flowers or not. "No, no," cried another, 
"give me the handsomest bunch.' ' "O no, good 
woman, give me the prettiest one, do, if you please," 
cried a third. Thus the clamor went on, until the old 
lady stood in speechless amazement, either feigned or 
real, at the noisy company before her. A degree of 



18 



FOOTPRINTS. 



quiet was finally restored, and each of the monied 
ones bargained for their flowers. Then the old lady 
brought her scissors into operation, and clip, clip, 
clip, told that bud and flower were being severed 
from the parent stem. But the noise soon rose 
again, if possible, still higher than before. ' ' O good 
woman, put this fine large rose in my bunch, won't 
you?" "O put this one in my bunch," cried an- 
other ; but still clip, clip went on, as if all had been 
quiet. At last all were adjusted, each received his 
flowers from the hands of the old lady, who took 
the money in return, and we were about starting 
for home, some highly delighted, thinking they had 
the handsomest bunch of all, others pleased, all 
satisfied. But as we gave the old lady a pleasant 
"good morning," she said, in a kind, motherly tone, 
"wait a few minutes, boys." Then she passed leis- 
urely through the garden, and occasionally we could 
hear a solitary clip ; then passing on a little, we 
could hear another clip, another and still another. 
• ' What is she doing ? ' ' asked several voices at once ; 
then clip, clip told us she was busy. "O who is 
that f or ? " eagerly enquired the boys, as the old 
lady walked down the garden, near where they were 
standing. Then gathering around her, each held up 
his hand, crying in great earnestness, "Me, me, 
me." But the old lady put them all aside with a 



EARLY RECOLLECTIONS. 



19 



good-natured smile, and then approaching the lad 
who had no money, and who up to this time had 
been in all the tumult perfectly quiet, she said : 
"My young friend, I have observed you through 
all the excitement which has been going on, and 
now say in the presence of these boys that I have 
been very much pleased with your conduct ; and 
further, as a reward for your modesty and good 
behavior, I present you with these flowers, truly 
the handsomest bunch of all ; — take them, and even 
after their beauty is faded and their fragrance lost, 
remember them as a token of my respect for you." 
The flowers were received with much surprise and 
many blushing thanks, while silent but most pro- 
found amazement was visible upon every face. Many 
years have passed since then : the flowers have long 
since faded, and the old lady doubtless sleeps in 
death ; but the lessons of that hour have never 
been forgotten. 



20 



FOOTPRINTS. 



CHAPTER II. 

REUGIOUS CONVICTIONS. 

In our bindery was a Miss Elizabeth Boyd, a de- 
voted member of the Presbyterian Church, who had 
charge of the female department of our business. 
She was faithful in her work, and also interested 
for the souls of the lads and young people around 
her. She placed in my hands one day a little book 
called "Anna Ross/' and asked if I would read it. 
I told her I would. The book revealed to me the 
blessedness of the religious life, and made such deep 
impressions upon my mind that I wanted above all 
things to be a Christian. These impressions were 
not transient, but deep and abiding. Had any one 
known the condition of my mind at that time, or 
had there been opportunities of seeking the Saviour, 
as now, I could have been led to Jesus without an 
effort, or bound to the cross by a single hair. I was 
then about fourteen years old. 

Two or three years passed, during which time, 
being surrounded by very wicked companions, I tried 
to plunge into sin, and to be rough and rollicking 
like the other boys, but always seemed to be held 



RELIGIOUS CONVICTIONS. 



21 



back by some invisible power, which I knew not ; 
and while my heart was black as depravity could 
make it, yet somehow, I was so restrained that I 
never uttered what might be called a profane oath, 
and was mercifully preserved from what are usually 
termed the grosser forms of outward sin. 

My Sabbaths, while I did not regularly attend the 
sanctuary, were usually, in pleasant weather, spent 
in meditative walks alone. I shall never forget the 
pleasure of those Sabbath walks. Because of my 
preference to be alone, they used to call me, by way 
of pleasant ridicule, "The Young Philosopher. ' ' 

About this time, one of my young shopmates 
asked me to go with him to Sabbath-school, in the 
little second-story room rear of Union Church, Fourth 
street, below Arch. I consented, and went. Here 
I was deeply interested, and all my old desires to 
be a Christian were not only revived, but greatly 
intensified. This interest showed itself at home. 
All the family saw it, and dear mother, in the good- 
ness of her heart, thinking I might drift away from 
the ancient landmarks of the Friends, thought it 
best to discourage my attendance upon the school. 
This greatly afflicted me, and for a season had a 
very sad influence upon my mind. But notwith- 
standing this, I occasionally went, and sometimes 
drifted into the adjoining church, which, at that 



22 



FOOTPRINTS. 



time, was called the "Old Academy." On some of 
these occasional visits, I remember seeing and hear- 
ing Thos. Sargent, M. Force, Thos. J. Thompson, and 
Joseph Holdich. O how I wanted to be good, but 
felt my way was obstructed. I loved my mother, 
and did not want to displease her ; not indeed that 
being good would have displeased her, — that would 
have given her the highest joy, — but a departure 
from the faith of her ancestors would give her sor- 
row. To cause her that sorrow was a great grief 
to me. But for this, I am quite sure I should have 
given my heart to God during some of these occa- 
sional visits to the "Old Academy.' ' 

Again my interest in the subject of religion 
waned, and for a number of months all my leisure 
time, including the whole of the Sabbath, was spent 
in reading works of fiction of the better class, chiefly 
Scott's and Cooper's. 

The year 1833 w r as rapidly passing away, and the 
last night had come. A number of us young men 
met to spend the last hours of the dying year in 
sinful pleasure. We had gone from point to point, 
singing our midnight songs, when about two o'clock 
on New Year's morning, sad of heart, I lingered 
behind, alone. When at the northeast corner of 
Thirteenth and Race streets, the full moon broke 
out in all her brilliancy from behind the clouds. 



RELIGIOUS CONVICTIONS. 



23 



In that calm, pure light, I felt ashamed, rebuked, 
and sinful before God. "O," said I, "If I were 
only as pure as that beautiful light, how much hap- 
pier I should be." Just then the songs of my 
companions, who by this time had gone consider- 
ably beyond me, were dying away in the distance. 
A resolution was at once formed to then and there 
desert my old companions and their sinful ways, 
and henceforth, with the New Year, commence a 
better life. I w T as enabled, by assisting grace, to 
keep my resolution, and never joined in such scenes 
again. Still the weeks came and went, and yet no 
definite course was taken, until one Sabbath after- 
noon, in February 1834, wearied with reading and 
desiring a change of employment, I concluded to 
stroll out alone. Meanwhile, since my visits to the 
Old Academy on Fourth street, that time-honored 
building had been removed, and the year before, the 
new and beautiful Union Church erected in its stead. 
Having heard of the fame of the new edifice, I con- 
cluded to visit it. The Rev. Charles Pitman was 
the pastor. This celebrated minister I had never 
seen, and do not now remember to have heard his 
name. The venerable Dr. Gough, a local minister 
in connection with the church, had preached, and 
the services were closing, when I, a youth, from 
motives of curiosity, ascending the northern stair- 



24 



FOOTPRINTS. 



way, stood upon the upper step, in full view of the 
pastor's magnificent form. Pitman, who was then 
in his thirty-eighth year, and in the very zenith of 
his manhood and ministerial glory, was reading the 
hymn commencing, 

" O that my load of sin were gone." 

The first words that reached my ear were, 

* 1 The cross all stained with hallowed blood, 
The labor of His dying love." 

All the deep sympathies of his nature were poured 
into these two lines. The voice seemed almost 
divine, and the blessed sentiments fell into the soul 
softly and smoothly as drops of liquid silver, never 
to be forgotten. This w r as the beginning of my 
positive religious history, and now, at the expira- 
tion of more than forty years, that majestic form 
and mellow voice are fresh and beautiful in memory 
as things of yesterday. That night I went to 
church again, and took my seat in the north gal- 
lery, near the western wall. At the close of the 
sermon, I arose, unsolicited, went down into the ves- 
tibule, then up the long north isle, knowing no one 
and no one knowing me, and under a deep and 
awful sense of my sins, knelt at the altar before 
the IyOrd in prayer. Edmund Yard placed his arms 
around me, and wept with me. How much good 



RELIGIOUS CONVICTIONS. 



25 



those tears did me words will never tell. For three, 
long, terrible weeks I drank the bitter cup of worm- 
wood and gall, until I had consumed it to its last 
fearful dregs, and so terrificially awful were these 
dregs that I seem almost to taste their bitterness 
even now. 

At last, after having been at the altar for three 
successive Sabbath nights (there being no meetings 
through the week), I found peace while praying 
alone, at about twelve o'clock midnight, in the 
attic of my father's house, No. 19 Perry street, 
Philadelphia. It was a change, real, deep, blessed ; 
yet in a way so different from what I conceived 
it would be, that for a while I doubted whether 
it was what I sought or not. But as I looked 
within, I found I had peace in the place of trouble, 
joy in the place of sorrow, light in the place of 
darkness, I concluded I was converted; and so, with- 
out a word, and almost without an emotion, physi- 
cally and mentally exhausted, I lay down to 
profound and peaceful slumber. The next morning 
the world was as new as if I had been translated 
to another sphere. Every thing was new because 
I was new, and Christ was new within me. Then 

"I could not believe 
That I ever * should grieve, 
Or ever should suffer again." 



26 



FOOTPRINTS. 



But in this I was sadly mistaken. After my con- 
version oppositions came in their most determined 
forms, until my reason almost reeled beneath their 
power. Week after week I delayed uniting with 
the Church, thinking my way might be clearer and 
my duty plainer. But the opposition grew stronger 
the longer I delayed. I was almost overpowered. 
But God does not forsake those who look to Him 
for help. He has different ways of delivering His 
people. Sometimes He removes the obstacles, and 
gives a plain path to walk in ; at others, He gives 
grace and strength to pass, if need be, through fire 
and flood. The latter was my case. The opposition 
that had its influence was not the scorn and ridicule 
of my former wicked associates, — that was as noth- 
ing, — but it w r as the opposition at home, not to my 
being good, — they all wanted me to be good, and 
my change for the better gave them great )oy. But 
it gave my dear mother, particularly, great heart- 
sorrow that I should leave the Friends and join 
another Society ; and her sorrow gave me great sor- 
row also. What should I do? Duty and judgment 
both said, * 1 Join the Methodist Church ' ' ; love for 
my mother said, ''No." I was worried and worn 
with protracted anxiety. I was finally delivered, as 
I have always believed, by the direct interposition 
of the Divine Spirit. I had called on Rev. C. Pit- 



RELIGIOUS CONVICTIONS. 



27 



man and stated my case to him, and he gave me 
good advice. Still I was not clear as to what I 
had best do, until one day, almost overwhelmed 
with trouble, I was passing along Twelfth street, 
between Walnut and Spruce streets, on my way from 
dinner to my work, when the following passage was 
applied to my heart with such wonderful power that 
I knew it came from God : ' ' Whosoever loveth 
father or mother more than me is not worthy of 
me." It decided my course at once, and on the 
next Sabbath, April 27, 1834, having previously 
read the New Testament and the Discipline of the 
Methodist Episcopal Church together, and fully con- 
vinced that the one harmonized with the other, I 
offered myself and was received by Rev. Charles 
Pitman into the Union Methodist Episcopal Church, 
Fourth street, below Arch street, in the city of 
Philadelphia, which I then thought, and have often 
thought since, was, in many respects, one of the 
grandest Societies that has ever graced our honored 
Methodism. 

During my connection with that church, which 
was up to the time of my entering the ministry, 
a period of nine years, I was privileged to mingle 
with some of the purest and best minds of the 
Church, and of listening to a succession of pulpit 
orators, both in the regular pastorate and the most 



28 



FOOTPRINTS. 



distinguished strangers, from all parts of Methodism, 
at home and abroad, such as few have enjoyed, and 
which I feel quite sure will not be excelled in any 
age, and fear also that it will be a long while be- 
fore such opportunities are even equalled. 



CAPABILITY MUST BE ACQUIRED. 



29 



CHAPTER III. 

CAPABILITY MUST BE ACQUIRED. 

On the next Sabbath after uniting with the 
Church, passing through the lower vestibule, I was 
approached, in a business way, by an earnest and 
emphatic young man, the secretary of the Sabbath 
school, John Wetherill, Jr., who asked me if I would 
consent to take a class in the school. The whole 
thing was so new and unexpected to me that I 
answered with a subdued spirit and voice of great 
timidity, which indicated an entire absence of con- 
fidence in myself, "I would like to, if I were capa- 
ble." His eyes flashed with the interest he felt in 
the blessed work, and looking me steadily in the 
face, exclaimed with great energy and emphasis, 
" Capability must be acquired." These words were 
to my moral and intellectual natures like a shock of 
electric fire, not destructive, but wonderfully quick- 
ening in their influence, and as if awakened to a 
new life and a higher purpose, I answered promptly 
and with firmness, ' ' I will try. ' ' Through all these 
more than forty years of the past, in any and every 
new work the Church has required at my hands, 



30 



FOOTPRINTS. 



and through every feeling of incompetency, these 
words, " Capability must be acquired," has spurred 
me on to effort. I entered the school the following 
Sabbath, and from that time till now, in one capa- 
city or another, have continued in the blessed work. 
One of the most effectual methods of preserving our 
own religious life is to commence at once, in some 
way, to help others. 

In the early part of my religious history I was, 
as perhaps all young Christians are, the subject of 
powerful temptations. Sometime during the first 
year of my connection with the Church, these temp- 
tations were so strong and constant that I felt I 
could endure them no longer. The evening of my 
class came, I was very much worn in my mind 
by the fierce attacks of Satan, and already fearfully 
wounded by his fiery darts. I was bleeding at 
every pore, and almost too faint to walk ; but I 
said : ' 1 I will go to class once more ; it will be the 
last time; to-morrow I shall backslide." Under 
these feelings I went sadly to the house of God. 
I did not want to backslide, but felt I was too 
w r eak to endure the conflict longer. My first class- 
leader, dear old Hugh McCurdy, sang his sweet 
and simple songs of Zion, then bowed in earnest 
prayer before the throne. He told us his own ex- 
perience, and exhorted us to a holy life. All these 



CAPABILITY MUST BE ACQUIRED. 31 



things had no influence on me. I was bowed, 
crushed, and broken, just ready to die. At last 
the leader approached an aged woman and said to 
her, ' ' My dear Sister Turner, tell us how you feel 
to-night." The aged saint arose, the tears flowing 
down her cheeks and her bosom heaving with sup- 
pressed emotion, while her lips exclaimed, in distinct 
yet soft and subdued tones, ' ' Bless the L,ord, O my 
soul, for through all the conflicts, trials, and temp- 
tations of more than forty years, the Lord has kept 
me by His almighty power.' ' Her voice ceased, 
and wiping the tears from her eyes, which were 
overflowing with gratitude, she sat down. This 
was the message God designed for me. With the 
rapidity of thought, these words, used by the Spirit 
of God, were bounding through my heart, and applied 
with more than human energy ; and I said, ' ' God 
is no respecter of persons ; if He has kept dear old 
Sister Turner for more than forty years, can He not 
keep me as well ? ' ' and the Spirit answered with 
never to be forgotten power, "Yes." I went home 
with an endowment of new power. The snare of 
the Devil had been broken ; and now I have to 
record, to the honor and praise of Almighty God, 
that the covenant made by the Spirit of God, on 
the night referred to, has been fulfilled, and at the 
expiration of forty years I am more than kept. 



32 



FOOTPRINTS. 



Bless God, that in every place there is some dear 
old Sister Turner, the utterances of whose lips, like 
ripe fruit from the tree of life, falls for our benefit 
and strength. 

After this I became very strict with myself, guard- 
ing jealously every thought, and watching every 
word. If I found that I had uttered a word that 
was unwise, or even unnecessary, I noted it down, 
keeping a pencil and paper constantly by me for 
that specific purpose. The object of writing the 
words thus spoken was the more effectually to im- 
press them upon the memory 7 in order to avoid their 
repetition. I fasted, prayed, read the Scriptures 
daily, and went through a most rigid dail} T , weekly 
and monthly course of self-examination, according 
to the plan laid down by Hannah Moore in her 
"Help to Devotion." I read Thomas a Kempis, 
and other religious books, with an earnest desire to 
know and enjoy all that was my privilege. There 
were three of us, young men, of about the same 
age, the now Rev. L. C. Matlack, D. D., of the 
Wilmington Conference, W. L. Hirst, and myself, that 
met in "band" for some time. Here our heart- 
searchings were very close, and much real benefit 
was derived. 

From the time of my conversion I had felt a 
great thirst for knowledge. I longed for a thorough 



CAPABILITY MUST BE ACQUIRED. 33 

education at some of the schools, but this seemed 
beyond my reach. The next best thing within my 
grasp was to devote my leisure time to a course of 
solid reading. I had no one to direct me, and so 
was left to drift my way alone, or as God might 
lead me. " Dick's Christian Philosopher," apart 
from books directly bearing on the heart, was the 
first valuable work that came into my hands. I 
read it as a hungry man devours food. Not a 
moment at my command was lost until the last 
page was reached, and portions of it w T ere read and 
re-read many, many times. It opened a new world 
to me — nay, it opened many worlds, below, above, 
around, within ; indeed, I was almost delirious with 
the new inburst of light and joy which it imparted. 
A large portion of the works of Dick were sub- 
sequently read, and much enjoyed. Books now, 
more than ever, became my world — my business by 
day, and my perusal and pleasure by night. The 
Young Men's Philadelphia Institute, an organization 
having some points of resemblance to the Young 
Men's Christian Associations of the present day, 
had just been opened, and here I found great and 
lasting benefit, in a reading-room, lecture-room, and 
association with the wise and good. 

Very early too, in my religious life, I felt a great 
desire to compose. I wanted to write something. 



34 



FOOTPRINTS. 



Before I was converted I tried to write a play. 
Soon after I was converted I wanted to be writing 
something good. My mind seemed to run a good 
deal on rhyme. I wanted to write poetry. This 
was not a transient feeling, but abiding from month 
to month, and from year to year. I resolved to 
try. It was lame and limping w T ork, but I w 7 ould 
do it, lame and limping though it was. I came at 
last to feel that I must and would write something 
every day. If I did not write something every day, 
I came to feel that day was lost. These produc- 
tions in themselves were of little or no value, and 
yet every effort to produce them I now see was just 
so much mental drill and discipline, which, while 
my hands were busy with my daily manual labor, 
my mind could get in no other way. Indeed, I 
now see that God was preparing me, in ways that 
I knew not, the best that could be, situated as I 
was, for my great life-work. Nothing discouraged 
me in my work of composition, until, by constant 
effort, the work became easier and my productions 
better. In this exercise I have found some of the 
sweetest enjoyments of my life. 

My first published articles w T ere crude and im- 
perfect, and yet the fact that they were published 
at all gave me encouragement and urged me on to 
greater effort. 



CAPABILITY MUST BE ACQUIRED. 35 



In the year 1836 I reached my majority. The 
next year, having saved a little money, and business 
being somewhat dull, I took my first great journey 
into the world. I went by rail to within a mile or 
two of Harrisburg; thence by stage over the Alle- 
ghany Mountains to Pittsburg ; then by steamer 
down the Ohio River, thirty miles to Beaver River ; 
then up that river two miles to New Brighton ; then, 
after a few weeks, as far as eastern Ohio. It was 
a great journey to me then, and full of romantic 
interest. I roamed over the hills, strolled along the 
rivers, sat down upon the rocks, listened to the 
murmuring waters, dreamed, theorized, wrote poetry, 
and was just as happy as a romantic youth, long 
shut up in the crowded city, could possibly be. 

On the 31st of July, 1838, I was united in mar- 
riage, by Rev. C. Pitman, to Miss Hannah H. Neff, 
of Philadelphia, who gave to me, in 1839, my first 
and only child, our precious Mary. Home, wife, and 
daughter were almost idols, loved with undying love. 

At the time of my marriage I had been a member 
of the Methodist Episcopal Church about five years, 
and as no action had been taken in my case by the 
Society of Friends, among whom I had a birthright 
membership, I was and had been a member of two 
churches all this time. I then said to a relative, 
that inasmuch as this was my case, I thought the 



36 



FOOTPRINTS. 



"Friends" had better take some measures to dispose 
of the question soon. Accordingly, a committee of 
elderly "Friends" was appointed to wait on me and 
see what should be done. But as the committee was 
composed of persons in advanced life, and as I was 
young and lived a considerable distance up town, one 
of the younger members of that body came and 
asked me if I would object to come to the house of 
one of the committee, who lived on Arch street. I 
answered I would have no objections, and so, at the 
proper time, I was at the appointed place. We had 
a very pleasant interview of about two hours, at the 
close of w T hich another meeting was appointed. At 
the second gathering w r e had a season of social and 
Christianly intercourse, which I still remember with 
pleasure. After an hour or more spent in this way, 
there was silence for a considerable length of time. 
At last it was asked if "Friends" were satisfied. 
A little pause ensued, when one of the committee 
said he had one further question he would like to 
ask Elwood, if he would consent to answer. I told 
them I would be pleased to answer any question in 
my power that they might ask, persuaded they would 
ask nothing improper. He then said he simply 
wanted to know if our young friend had pursued 
the course he had, in leaving the "Friends" and going 
to the Methodist Society, from purely conscientious 



CAPABILITY MUST BK ACQUIRED. 37 

motives. I felt so thankful, when I heard this last 
question, that it was one I could answer so easily ; 
for if ever a person could respond to such a ques- 
tion in the affirmative, I could, since in joining the 
Methodist Church, so far as worldly appearances at 
that time were concerned, I had nothing to gain, 
but everything to lose. So I answered promptly, 
gravely, and from the heart, "Yes." The com- 
mittee were then silent a few minutes longer, and 
finally said they were satisfied. During both these 
interviews the utmost respect and kindness were 
shown me. The person at whose house we met 
said he had a large library, the free use of which 
he would be glad for me to enjoy at any time ; and 
they all said, if at any time I should feel I had 
done wrong in leaving "Friends," and desired to re- 
turn, I would always find the door open. I thanked 
them and left. A few days after, one of the com- 
mittee brought me what is called a "paper of dis- 
ownment"; but as it had no date or signature 
attached to it, I objected to it as unofficial. He 
meekly replied, "That was the way 'Friends' did." 
With this transaction my formal connection with 
that respectable body of " Orthordox Friends" ceased. 
It is a fact worthy of statement at this period of 
my history, a fact which perhaps few can state, 
that all my natural life, from birth up to this year 



38 



FOOTPRINTS. 



of grace, I have been a member of the visible Church 
of Christ, and for five of these years a member of 
two ; and while I claim no merit from these facts, 
and mention them in no boasting sense whatever, 
yet as I look at it now, in the light of nearly three- 
score years, it gives me no pain whatever, but rather 
emotions of profoundest joy. 

From the year 1837 to 1842, a period of five years, 
which covered the whole of the time of my first 
marriage, and a year before and as much beyond 
that event, I wrote considerably, and found much 
pleasure in so doing. These articles, most of which 
may be found in a square manuscript volume, with 
red morocco back and brown muslin sides, vary in 
merit, some entirely worthless, while others have the 
approval of my riper years, and are of value inas- 
much as they show the transitions of my mind from 
the sunshine to the shadow, from the vernal airs 
and bursting flowers to the gloom and darkness in 
which sickness came, and death at last bowed me 
in deep and heaviest grief. 

My beloved wife was a member of a Baptist family; 
not, however, a member of that or any other Church. 
Her religious convictions, nevertheless, were very 
strong, and although not a formal professor, she 
often urged me forward in the discharge of religious 
duties. Five or six months after the birth of our 



CAPABILITY MUST BE ACQUIRED. 39 



only child, our precious Mary, we moved into a new 
brick house on Eleventh street, near Buttonwood, 
Philadelphia, the walls of which did not prove to be 
perfectly dry. Here she contracted a cold, which 
finally resulted in confirmed disease of the lungs, and 
a protracted and painful sickness of eighteen months 
followed. During this period, though always relig- 
iously inclined, her mind was constantly Godward. 
We often conversed and prayed together on the sub- 
ject of vital religion. But she was naturally timid, 
and felt that a profession of religion would entail 
duties she was too weak to perform. Like thousands, 
of others, she thought only of what she was in her- 
self, and not of what she might and would be in 
Christ. "How could I pray in public, or how could 
I speak in class, or how do any other religious duty ?" 
were constantly recurring questions. So true it is 
that we overlook the oft-repeated assurances of God, 
"As thy day, so shall thy strength be." But the 
light gradually unfolded, and she saw things differ- 
ently, until at last she grasped the truth, embraced 
the Saviour, and became, without a doubt, a child 
of the living God. The 8th of October, 1841, was 
a day of the highest triumph, and a day of the 
deepest gloom. She entered, in the most wonder- 
fully glorious manner, through the gates into the 
eternal city, while I, clasping my little motherless 



40 



FOOTPRINTS. 



daughter in my arms, sunk o'erwhelmed with sor- 
row. On the ioth of October, 1841, the day I was 
twenty-six years old, I buried her, in a spot selected 
by herself, in the rear of the Baptist Church, Budd 
street, Philadelphia, the church where she had been 
accustomed to worship, and where I supposed her 
remains would rest until the resurrection morning. 
The Rev. Mr. Dodge, pastor of the church, preached 
the funeral sermon, from the text, "Blessed are the 
dead who die in the Lord." Then came the long 
days of grief and sadness. My little daughter, just 
past two years old, and myself were desolate and 
alone. It was my first great grief. It so affected 
me physically that all thought a fatal disease had 
seized me, and for a long while my bowed and 
broken spirit could not rally. 

In the summer of 1842 a camp meeting was 
announced to be held near Swedesboro, New Jer- 
sey. To this meeting the Union Church, Phila- 
delphia, resolved to take their tent, and as far 
as they could, attend the meeting. The arrange- 
ments largely devolved on me. It was well. My 
mind, which for nearly ten months had been run- 
ning in a groove of gloom, was lifted out and up 
as I became interested in others. We had, to me, 
one of the most wonderful meetings of my life. 
Edmund Yard was the leading spirit in our tent 



CAPABILITY MUST BK ACQUIRED. 41 



worship. Conversions and sanctifications took place 
at every service. In a prayer meeting, in our tent, 
one night, I saw, as in a vision, the form of my 
departed wife. She stood upon a bright cloud, 
clothed with a white flowing robe ; a wreath en- 
circled her brow, and, leading upon an anchor, her 
countenance was sweetly calm and beautiful with 
celestial light. I have no theory upon the subject. I 
never saw anything like it before or since. It greatly 
cheered my long-desponding heart. I was henceforth 
less sad. The whole scene was so marked, vivid, 
and seemingly real, that it is as fresh to my mind 
and memory now as on the day of its occurrence. 

A number of us young men went home from that 
meeting so renewed, and under the influence of the 
Divine Spirit, that we held meetings in the base- 
ment of the church, which were attended with great 
power, and sometimes even a little demonstrative and 
noisy, until some of the official brethren thought 
we had better stop. And we did ! But I have 
often thought, as I have looked upon that time in 
the light of riper years, that if we were perhaps a 
little over zealous, it would have been better for 
those more experienced to have guided rather than 
have stopped us. 

In September of that year, Rev. Jos. Castle, pas- 
tor of Union M. K. Church, handed me a class-book, 



42 



FOOTPRINTS. 



and told me to take charge of the Wednesday night 
class in room No. 3. I was very much frightened, 
but took the book. Judge of my surprise, how- 
ever, when on getting alone, so that I dared to 
open it, I found inside a license to exhort. Both 
coming together almost overwhelmed me, but re- 
remembering "capability must be acquired/' I went 
on as best I could. 

Being licensed to exhort, I thought I must, and 
did. In January, 1843, I was told by one of the 
official members I must come round to the quarterly 
conference, and be examined for license to preach. 

I thought I must do whatever I was told, so I 
went, was examined, and received my license. I then 
preached a few times, or tried to, and was surprised 
almost beyond measure that God should own and 
bless my labors as He did. 



AN ITINERANT MINISTER. 



43 



CHAPTER IV. 

AN ITINERANT MINISTER. 

In April, 1843, Rev. S. Y. Monroe, with whom I 
had been on terms of intimacy from the period of 
my conversion, we having joined the same church 
at about the same time, was received by the New 
Jersey Annual Conference of the M. E. Church, as 
a traveling minister, and appointed to Swedesboro 
Circuit. At the close of the Conference, held that 
year at New Brunswick, Rev. Charles T. Ford, 
Presiding Elder of the Camden District, having a 
vacancy on the Salem Circuit, asked Bro. Monroe 
if he knew of any one he could get to fill it. Bro. 
Monroe referred him to me. When the proposition 
was made to me to fill that vacancy, it was a sur- 
prise, and I asked time to consider. This time to 
consider was all the more needful as I had, if all 
other things were clear, to see what arrangements 
could be made for my dear little motherless child. 
Consulting with my mother, with whom I resided, 
she consented to keep Mary, while I went forth to 
do my Master's work. This most important matter 
being thus adjusted, after a good deal of hesitation, 



44 



FOOTPRINTS. 



I finally consented to go, but said I should need 
three or four weeks to arrange all my matters so 
as to be able to leave. But between the time of 
consenting to become an itinerant minister and that 
1 of actually starting out, a period of nearly four 
weeks, an experience, the most awful to which the 
human mind is subjected, was mine. Purgatory, 
hell itself, could hardly have been worse. It seemed 
to me that all the fiends of the bottomless pit were 
let loose upon me, that I had lost all the friends I 
ever had, and in all the long roll of future years 
I should never find another. Desolation, woe worse 
than death, were mine! I drank the bitterest worm- 
wood, and it seemed that I partook of the gall of 
the lost. Sleep, appetite, rest, hope, everything was 
gone. But the day of my departure arrived. I had 
no care for money or for place, no more than if 
money did not exist, and the thought of future 
position in the church did not occur to me in mid- 
day or mid-night dreams. I went, thrust out, taking 
with me pins, needles, thread, buttons, and every 
little thing that I might possibly want, for under 
the influence of these overwhelming, almost soul- 
destroying temptations, directly, as I have since be- 
lieved, from the Devil, I said, "I shall never find 
a friend who will supply any of these or other 
needed things." 



AN ITINERANT MINISTER. 



45 



When I reached my field of labor, and found my 
colleague, Rev. Noah Edwards, a precious man of 
God, the whole thing was so different from what 
had been pictured to my imagination that my 
physical, mental, and spiritual powers could scarcely 
endure the change, and I became — and for that 
whole year continued — almost delirious with religious 
joy, so that my colleague and myself had a year of 
such spiritual blessedness, that the mind turns to 
it as to a green spot on which rests no shade of 
sorrow. My first sermon as an itinerant minister 
was preached at Hancocks Bridge, or what was then 
called the Lower Bethel appointment, on the cross 
way, a little out of the village, on May 21, 1843, 
from Eph. vi. 18, 19. 

At the close of that Conference year, during which 
we had some blessed revivals of religion, I was 
recommended by the Salem Circuit Quarterly Con- 
ference as a suitable person to be admitted to the 
traveling connection, and on the 21st of April, 1844, 
the New Jersey Conference recorded my name upon 
its list of probationers. Seventeen others were re- 
ceived at the same time, all of whom, save three, at 
the expiration of thirty-one years still survive. 

Strange enough that I, a young man, sent up to 
the Conference for admission, was assigned, as my 
place of entertainment, with the Presiding Elder, 



46 



FOOTPRINTS. 



the saintly Charles T. Ford. I shall never forget 
the private devotions of that holy man. His prayers 
were deep, earnest, solemn, and, as I am well assured, 
took fast hold on God. When the Conference was 
nearly over, he said to me, in the most solemn 
manner, 1 ' Brother, how would you like to go to 
Medford Circuit ? " If there was any place to which 
I should not go, it really seemed to me Medford 
was that place. At Medford I was born; and at 
Medford, grandfather, uncles, aunts, and cousins al- 
most without number resided, all members of the 
Society of Friends. But I had no disposition to say 
these things to the Presiding Elder, and simply said 
in reply, "All places are too good for me, send 
me anywhere." The appointments on the minutes 
for that year stand thus : Medford Circuit — S. 
Jaquett, E. H. Stokes. The Circuit included Med- 
ford, Vincentown, Eumberton, Marlton, Hartford, 
Tabernacle, Red Eion, and Charville. We had a 
pleasant year, and more or less revival at nearly 
every point. 

Near Vincentown, that year, resided a family, in 
which there was a young woman, who claimed one 
of the several horses about the premises as her own. 
This horse she cared for, fed, rode, and greatly 
loved. Her father concluded at a certain time, that 
as he had no special use for the horse, he would 



AN ITINERANT MINISTER. 



47 



sell it. His daughter remonstrated, and warned him 
not to do so ; but he did, and the horse was trans- 
ferred to the stable of a near neighbor. Soon after 
this transaction the daughter rose at midnight, took 
an axe, butcher knife, and an ear of corn, and re- 
paired to the stable which contained her pet. She 
spoke to him, led him out, threw down the ear of 
corn, and as he stooped to eat, knocked him on 
the head with the axe, which felled him to the 
ground ; then with the knife she cut his throat, 
and left him to die, rather than be the property of 
another. Not long after this we held a protracted 
meeting at Vincentown, and this young woman sought 
and professed to find the Saviour. My colleague 
directed me, on a certain night, to receive those who 
wished to join the church. A number came for- 
ward, among them this young woman. When I 
came to her I asked, as I always did, "Are there 
any objections?" No one spoke. But knowing as 
I did the strong feeling that existed in the com- 
munity about the horse transaction, I repeated, "If 
any one has objections to receiving this young woman 
on probation, let them now speak, or else hereafter 
forever hold their peace." A sister said, "I have 
objections." I then said to the young woman, 
' ' Please take your seat and wait a while, and per- 
haps the objections will cease." This was the first 



48 



FOOTPRINTS. 



and last instance in which I had objections raised 
to persons coming into the church of God. 

During the summer of 1844, in company with 
Brother and Sister Jaquett, and my little daughter, 
I went to Long Branch on a visit, and had my 
first view of the ocean. The morning after our 
arrival was bright and beautiful as a new creation; 
we arose abundantly refreshed after the fatigue of 
the previous day, and were soon on our way to the 
sea. While at the distance of two miles we could 
hear it roaring in tones like distant thunder. We 
approached the shore ; it was my first sight. I 
looked ! I was astounded ! I had seen lofty moun- 
tains and noble rivers ; I had seen the beautiful 
valley, the sloping hill, the winding rivulet ; I had 
seen nature and art combined, forming the most 
romantic landscapes ; — but never, never had I seen 
a sight so majestic as the mighty ocean. It seemed 
to me like the emblem of Omnipotence and Eter- 
nity. Let the atheist look, and be put to eternal 
shame ; let the unbeliever of every grade, in full 
sight of these boundless waters, vauntingly cry, 
' 'There is no God." 

I felt like a child looking out for the first time 
upon the world, or like the man restored to sight, 
when he first beheld the mountains of Palestine. 
I shall never forget that hour. The ocean was 



AN ITINERANT MINISTER. 



49 



calm ; the rolling surge broke at our feet, and the 
white foam fell upon the sea-washed sands of a 
thousand years. Upon those sea-bleached sands I 
wrote my name, but one swell of the rising waters 
wiped it out forever ; so will the fast flowing bil- 
lows of time soon erase my name from the records 
of earth, and the world will pass on as though a 
generation of us had never existed. Upon the bosom 
of the mighty deep, which seemed to be sleeping 
beneath a burning sun, were a number of vessels of 
different classes, with their white sails spread to the 
free breezes of heaven, some at a distance where 
they appeared like a little white cloud on the hori- 
zon, others but a mile or two from the shore, all 
freighted with immortal souls, and plunging through 
the deep. 

I had a great desire to see an ocean sunrise; 
accordingly, I came and ascended a hill which had 
a commanding view of the sea. When I arrived at 
the summit the sun appeared to be about two inches 
above the water's edge. I stood a few minutes in 
perfect silence to view the scene (to me at least) 
of wonder ; as I looked, he seemed to spring up 
dripping from his watery bed, "rejoicing as a strong 
man to run a race," and like a burning chariot 
ascended the heavens. As he advanced on his 
march up the sky, the ocean presented itself like a 



50 



FOOTPRINTS. 



burnished highway of molten brass, and the tossing 
of every billow seemed to emit some new-born glory, 
like the dazzling splendors of the eternal throne of 
God. I felt reluctant to turn from the spot ; every 
moment the brightness seemed to spread, till the 
whole ocean was spangled with the gorgeous beams 
of the new-born day. My soul caught the mission- 
ary fire, and I soon found myself praying that the 
"knowledge of the Lord might cover the earth, as 
these bright waters now cover the sea." These 
waters were brightened by the natural sun ; but 
when the Sun of Righteousness shall shine full- 
orbed upon the earth, how much brighter will be 
the scene. 

The appointments on the printed minutes for 1845 
stand thus : Camden and Gloucester Point — A. K. 
Street and E. H. Stokes. The ground covered by 
this plan was the whole of Camden, Gloucester City, 
Eight Square, Hedding, and Chews Landing. J. K. 
Shaw was the Presiding Elder. The brethren at 
Camden, however, felt a little alarmed when they 
saw the announcement, and said, "We are on a 
Circuit !" So, at the first Quarterly Conference, it 
was arranged that I should have charge of Glouces- 
ter City and the out appointments, and as I was 
not ordained, that Brother Street should exercise a 
kind of supervision over me. 



AN ITINERANT MINISTER. 



51 



Gloucester, at the time of my appointment, had 
seven members. The factories were just going into 
operation, and as it was looked upon as a promising 
prospective field of labor, the out appointments were 
added to give it a little financial strength until it 
could support itself. The first time I preached at 
Gloucester I had about fourteen in the congrega- 
tion, and after the service had to walk nearly two 
miles to find a place to stay all night ; but as the 
factories went into operation the population rapidly 
increased. During the winter we held an extra 
meeting, which was attended with wonderful power. 
The community was largely made up of eastern 
people, of almost every shade of religious opinion and 
belief. It required more than ordinary power to 
impress or convince them. That power came, and 
in many instances the most inveterate unbelievers 
were made to tremble before the Lord, while the 
captious and critical were awed to silence. Men 
and women fell as if slain in battle, and it was no 
uncommon thing to carry them home at the close 
of service, stiff and unconscious as a corpse. At the 
close of that year we had, instead of seven, one hun- 
dred and sixteen members of the church. The out 
appointments were then cut off, and in 1846, after 
having been ordained a Deacon, by Bishop James, at 
Elizabeth, I was returned to Gloucester City alone. 



52 



FOOTPRINTS. 



CHAPTER V. 

GLOUCESTER CITY CHARGE. 

During my first year on Gloucester City charge 
an interesting incident occurred. In the early years 
of my ministry, to say nothing about the present, 
I was very careful to try in all things to comply 
with disciplinary requirements. The discipline, as 
is known, among many other things, requires the 
preacher in charge to preach on the subject of edu- 
cation, and take a collection to aid the cause annually. 
So I prepared my sermon as best I could, and went 
on a fine Sabbath morning to one of my out appoint- 
ments with my head and heart full of the subject. 
The congregation, always small, was no larger that 
day than usual, and of these few perhaps not one 
had ever enjoyed more than the commonest advan- 
tages, a number not even such. I preached with 
all the physical and mental energy I possessed, and 
thought I had made a tolerably fair argument for 
my cause. Then came the collection. I do not 
now remember what it amounted to, but have an 
impression that it was about thirty-five or thirty- 
six cents ! The doxology sung and the benediction 



GLOUCESTER CITY CHARGE. 



53 



pronounced, the congregation retired, seemingly in 
no very enthusiastic mood. Belonging to that church 
there was a most excellent German brother, with 
whom I usually went home to dinner, as he lived 
very near the afternoon appointment. As soon as 
we were all comfortably seated in his carriage and 
on our way to his house, unable to restrain himself 
longer, he commenced and said : 

"I don't likes to hear you preach on education. " 

Surprised at this announcement, I answered, ' ' Why 
not?" 

' ' I likes to hear you preach the Gospel, ' 9 he re- 
plied. 

"Well, my dear friend, education is part of the 
Gospel." 

"Veil, I don't likes to hear you preach on edu- 
cation, that ish all." 

Seeing he was not pleased, I thought it best to 
drop the subject, and turn the conversation into an- 
other channel. In due time we arrived at his house. 
It was a comfortable farmhouse, and although he 
had come to this country poor, yet he was now 
surrounded with all the comforts of life. His wife 
was the tidiest of women. The sight of her clean 
and well-filled table would create an appetite, if none 
existed before. My German brother had put up 
his horses, taken off his coat, washed, and coming 



54 



FOOTPRINTS. 



into the room where I was seated, singing one of 
our time-honored and well-known hymns, seemed 
to have forgotten the episode we had engaged in 
an hour or so before. I said to him : 

' 1 Brother, you are fond of singing ? ' ' 

' ' O yes, ' ' he responded quickly ; 1 ' the blessed 
hymns, -I never get tired of singing them. ' Come, 
thou fount of every blessing ' ; ' When I can read 
my title clear'; and 1 Jesus, lover of my soul'; — 
these are the blessed hymns I love." 

"Well, my dear brother," I replied, "did you 
ever think that but for education you w r ould not 
have had any hymns to sing ? ' ' 

He looked at me in astonishment, and said : 

"No, I never thought of that." 

"It is nevertheless true," I continued; "these 
hymns of which you speak are all of them the pro- 
duction of men of thorough education, graduates of 
colleges or universities. But for education we should 
have no hymns to sing, and but for education we 
should have no tunes. It requires education not 
only to write the hymns, but also to compose the 
tunes ; and when the tunes are so writien, it re- 
quires education to learn them from the written or 
the printed page. It requires education, too, to place 
these hymns and tunes upon the printed page, so 
that they may be circulated and used. Without 



GLOUCESTER CITY CHARGE. 55 



education there would be silence in the churches — 
no hymns, no tunes, no songs, or if there was any- 
thing, it would be discord, confusion worse than 
nothing. So, my dear brother, you are indebted to 
education for the pleasure you enjoy in song this 
very hour." 

During these remarks he looked at me with the 
utmost surprise, as if a new world of thought had 
broken upon his mind. As I concluded, he said : 

"Veil, preach what you please, then." 

"I propose to," I replied, "and am going to re- 
peat this very sermon over here in the church this 
afternoon, and want you to go and hear it again, 
and I trust you will have a higher appreciation of 
the subject than ever." 

He went, listened attentively, and never complained 
of any subject I preached upon thereafter. 

The next Sabbath after my return from Confer- 
ence I was called upon to perform a marriage. I 
had not had time to familiarize my mind with the 
ceremony, not even so much as to look it over. 
I went at the appointed time, full of trembling, 
anxiety and fear. The company was large, and as 
if to add to my embarrassment, the ladies were all 
draped in white, so that it was quite out of the 
question, judging from appearances, to determine 
which, or whether the whole party was to be mar- 



56 



FOOTPRINTS. 



ried. The bride and groom were finally designated, 
and I commenced and went through the ritual on 
matrimony from beginning to end. All this I had 
done so lengthily and so solemnly, that at the close 
the guests declared it was more like a funeral than 
a wedding. I believe no one doubted, however, 
but that the work was well and thoroughly done. 

The next application made to me for this kind 
of service was spiced with romance. It was on this 
wise : 

Night had thrown her mantle over the little city 
in which I was the only pastor. The busy hum of 
factory wheels had ceased, and hundreds, wearied 
by their toil, or prostrated by the pent-up atmos- 
phere, were seeking refreshment and rest along the 
banks of the placid river, which swept on with its 
low and gentle murmur to the sea. Back from the 
river, on a street running at an angle with it, was 
the building in which my study was located. There 
was nothing attractive about it : without, it was 
plain; within, unassuming. Here a case of books, a 
little table and a chair or two, there a trunk which 
contained my scanty wardrobe, and yonder a bed. 
I sat beside the little table, and, by the aid of a 
glimmering lamp, was poring over the contents of 
a volume on theology, when a loud rap at the door 
announced the presence of a visitor, and simultane- 



GLOUCESTER CITY CHARGE. 



57 



ously the door swung open. A young man, with 
large whiskers and flushed cheeks, indicating the in- 
dulgence of an appetite which if persisted in would 
prove destructive, stood before me. I had seen him 
often, and knew something of his history, but we 
had no personal acquaintance. He made a respect- 
ful bow as he entered, but was evidently embarrassed. 
After a considerable effort, he succeeded in saying 
that he had a little business which he desired me 
to attend to on the following Wednesday night. 
Judging from his manner that it was an affair of 
matrimony, I bid him come in, and after some hesi- 
tation I learned from him of the anticipated wed- 
ding. As he was not particular about the place 
where the ceremony should be performed, the best 
room in the house where I had my study was de- 
termined upon, and as I had an engagement in 
the early part of the evening designated, the time 
was fixed at the hour of nine. Matters being thus 
satisfactorily settled, he left, and I was again alone. 
Emily, whose name he had mentioned as the bride, 
was a member of my own church, pleasing in appear- 
ance and manners, and withal a consistent follower 
of the meek and lowly Jesus. I was then a young 
man, having just taken my ordination vows. It 
was therefore a matter of considerable interest with 
myself; indeed, the results for good or ill pending 



58 



FOOTPRINTS. 



upon such an event in the history of life are so 
vast, that it would evince a strange want of sensi- 
bility to be indifferent to them. There are few 
scenes in this fallen world more interesting and 
beautiful than where two virtuous hearts, in the 
warm gush of youthful affection, twine about each 
other, deriving not only strength and protection, but 
greater joy and happiness from the fond embrace ; 
and earth has no form or ritual more impressive 
or solemn than that which pronounces them one 
until the tie is severed by the hand of death. But 
in this case there was apparently so little congen- 
iality in spirit or in pursuit, that the beautiful was 
almost lost in the gloom which gathered around 
and rested upon it. The marriage day drew on ; 
the sky was clear and bright, the modest May flow- 
ers were unfolding their buds and blossoms in the 
sun, the sweet birds were sending forth their soft 
and melodious notes in the shady walks around, and 
all was beautiful. Night came on. The sun went 
down in the golden west, and the moon arose in 
silvery and silent majesty. The cool breeze fanned 
the brow of the weary as they sought their accus- 
tomed rest by the river-side. The clock struck 
nine, and I sat waiting the arrival of those who by 
the pronunciation of the solemn ceremony were to 
be made one for life. The toil-worn and weary 



GLOUCESTER CITY CHARGE. 59 



were pressing the homeward way, and the silence 
of the hour was only interrupted by the echo of 
their footfall as it broke in loneliness upon my ear, 
then died away in the distance. The moments 
passed slowly on, and the impression which from 
the beginning had rested on my mind, of some un- 
revealed difficulty connected with this case, grew 
stronger by delay. I arose and paced my room, 
but bent forward in a listening attitude to catch 
the first sound of their approach. I could hear the 
ticking of my watch, and the intense throbbing of 
my own heart, but all else was still. The clock 
struck ten, and as the sound thereof ceased, I could 
hear again the sound of distant footsteps, but like 
the others they too passed away. Another hour of 
painful anxiety elapsed, when amid fearful appre- 
hensions as to what could be the cause of such a 
strange procedure, I retired to rest. Morning came, 
and the mystery was solved. The follower of Jesus 
had broken her solemn vow, and refused to submit 
to the marriage compact. But, reader, do not con- 
demn her. He to whom she was betrothed was 
intemperate, though not, as she believed, beyond 
redemption ; and she felt that a crisis had arrived, 
which, unless improved, all would be lost, and 
lost forever. On the evening previous she had 
arrayed herself in her bridal attire. When fully 



60 



FOOTPRINTS. 



prepared, and while awaiting the arrival of him to 
whom she had given her heart, she sat down ab- 
sorbed in thought, and as she sat she wept and 
prayed. The path of duty seemed plain before her. 
God gave her strength, and judgment triumphed. 
The lover came, she took his arm, and they walked 
forth in the silent moonlight towards the place 
appointed for their marriage. As they passed on, 
she again expressed her oft-repeated fears, and told 
him her resolves ; and then in words such as woman 
and love alone can utter, urged him before their 
nuptials were completed to think, to resolve and 
flee from this evil and destructive habit. But her 
words fell coldly on his heart, and with hasty and 
angry strides he retraced his steps, and pushing her 
from his arm at the door of her dwelling, passed 
fiercely to his cups, the miserable and forlorn sub- 
ject of a degrading appetite, but with the burning 
conviction deep upon his mind that the vow of love 
which that fond and trusting heart had made sin- 
cerely, but perhaps with too much haste, was now 
by her righteously broken. * * * * 
It was night in the chilly month of October. 
The Sabbath sun had gone down, and the black 
clouds hung in threatening aspect along the west- 
ern sky. The wind whistled as it swept past my 
window, then moaned away in the distance. The 



GLOUCESTER CITY CHARGE. 61 



dry leaves of autumn were hurried before the blast, 
the streets were almost deserted, and the scene was 
one of dreariness and gloom, I threw my cloak 
around me, and hurried along the silent side- walks 
to another part of our little city. I was soon in 
the midst of a warm and well-lighted apartment. 
A numerous company was in waiting, while every 
countenance was wreathed in smiles, and every heart 
seemed happy. But prominent in that joyful group 
were two young, fond and trustful hearts, twining 
about each other for support and refuge ; the glow 
of health was on their cheeks, while a soft and sub- 
dued affection beamed from their eyes. After a 
brief ceremony, I placed their right hands in each 
other, and pronounced these words : ' ' Those whom 
God hath joined together let no man put asunder"; 
and that moment the consistent follower of Christ, 
the eloquent and loving temperance advocate, and the 
reformed inebriate were husband and wife. Love and 
principle had triumphed, the temperance pledge was 
signed and Emily had redeemed her broken vow. 

The first time I ever administered the rite of 
Christian baptism was by immersion in the River 
Delaware, on a fine summer Sabbath afternoon, while 
stationed at Gloucester City. A vast crowd of 
people witnessed the ceremony, and were as orderly 
as could be expected. 



62 



FOOTPRINTS. 



On the 6th of January, 1847, near th e close of 
my time at Gloucester City, I was married, by Rev. 
J. K. Shaw, to Miss Sarah Ann Stout, second daugh- 
ter of Rev. Edward Stout, of the New Jersey Annual 
Conference, with whom up to the present time I 
have passed a happy life. 

At the Salem Conference, 1847, Bishop Hamline 
presiding, I was appointed to L,ambertville, and no 
one, unless they have had a similar experience, can 
tell the joy of my heart when, on moving to that 
place, I found my little family, which for nearly 
six years had been broken and scattered, now re- 
organized ; and with my wife, and little daughter 
nearly eight years old, at my side, I could once 
more sit down and feel the blessedness of home. 

This place, nestled as it is amid the hills, on the 
banks of the romantic Delaware, was to us in every 
way delightful. It was our first experience in the 
hill country, and our first experience in house-keeping 
in the itinerancy ; and although the society was 
poor, the salary small, and a great many turns had 
to be made, as well as inconveniences experienced, 
in order to get along, yet our whole residence there 
was sunlight, and a joy not to be forgotten. 

Having been ordained an Elder, at the Paterson 
Conference, in 1848, by Bishop James, we were re- 
turned to Eambertville for the second year. Al- 



GLOUCESTER CITY CHARGE. 63 



though we had no revival at this place, yet I am 
fully persuaded that the church grew and became 
stronger every day. My own mind matured too, 
and my preaching was more and more acceptable. 
While at L,ambertville I frequently wrote for the 
papers, secular and religious. 



64 



FOOTPRINTS. 



CHAPTER VI. 

CLINTON CIRCUIT. 

In 1849 we removed to Clinton Circuit, Hunter- 
don Co., N. J., with the venerable and Rev. George 
Baughart for junior preacher ; Rev. I. Winner, pre- 
siding elder. The circuit was large, and most of 
the territory rough ; yet, as it was in the mountains, 
it was a perpetual inspiration to me. Our first year 
was the cholera year. Gen. Z. Taylor was President 
of the United States. As the disease spread, and 
in thousands of instances seemed to baffle the skill 
of the wisest physicians, Gen. Taylor, who had again 
and again marched at the head of victorious armies, 
and confronted danger in all its forms without fear, 
now, in this unequal fight with pestilence, asked 
for quarter, and called upon the nation to fast and 
pray. Accordingly, on the Sabbath before the day 
appointed, I announced that there would be sendee 
on fast day, in our church at Clinton. I soon found 
there would be no service, excepting our own, in 
any direction within six miles. I knew at once we 
should have a crowd. Methodism was antagonized 
in all that region by the older and Calvanistic de- 



CLINTON CIRCUIT. 



65 



nominations. I was young and ambitious, desiring 
to do the best I could for the credit of our church, 
the glory of God, and the good of the people. I 
therefore, early on Monday morning, determined to 
employ my wakeful hours, until the service on Fri- 
day, in preparation for my work. The first thing 
was to find a text. This I thought would be an 
easy task. I took up my Bible, and spent most of 
Monday in fruitless search. On Tuesday morning I 
commenced again. I looked and looked, and looked 
again. I began to get nervous. I turned to my 
other books, and read up everything I had on the 
subject of fasting and prayer ; then turned to my 
Bible again, looked over the Old Testament, and 
looked over the New. My mind would not take 
hold of anything. Wednesday came, and was spent 
in nervous anxiety and dread. I began greatly to 
distrust myself ; indeed, distrust is too feeble to ex- 
press my feelings — I fairly hated myself. I went 
to bed, but not to sleep. The approaching service 
and my want of preparation rested like a great 
nightmare upon my mind. I arose on Thursday 
resolved to make another desperate effort to find a 
text. I looked and turned, and turned and looked, 
but every chapter and verse in the grand old Bible 
were closed to me. I re-read all that I had read in 
the early part of the week on fasting and prayer. 



66 



FOOTPRINTS. 



I wept, I prayed, I agonized with God. Occasion- 
ally a brother would step in, and with an air of 
satisfaction, supposing the announcement would please 
me, would state that there was a universal expec- 
tation to attend the fast-day service ; every word 
of which helped my agony. I got my concordance, 
and examined all the passages that had fast and 
pray in. Then I took Gaston's collections, and did 
the same. I think I took my Bible almost a hun- 
dred times a day ; sometimes looking through whole 
chapters and books carefully and consecutively, then 
would open at random, tried all ways, and then 
ceased trying. Friday came, and no subject, no 
sermon, no text ; nothing but a mass of matter on 
fasting and prayer, crude and chaotic in my mind. 
It was nine o'clock; the service commenced at ten! 
Already the dust of approaching carriages began 
to arise. The side- walks showed that the multi- 
tudes were on the move. It was half-past nine. 
I heard someone say, ' ' There will be a great crowd 
at church to-day." And yet no text! O my poor 
brain! Great God, help me! I went to my Bible 
once more. I had only fifteen minutes left. If I 
am not helped now, God's cause must suffer, and 
I am put to utter confusion. It was a desperate 
moment. The last extremity had come. I opened 
the sacred Book once more, with feelings kindred 



CLINTON CIRCUIT. 



67 



to despair. The first words that met my eye were 
these: "Be merciful unto me, O God, be merciful 
unto me, for my soul trusteth in Thee ; yea, in the 
shadow of Thy wings will I make my refuge, until 
these calamities be overpast. " — Psalm 57, 1. "Dear 
Lord," said I, "this is the passage I have been 
looking for all the week." Instantly my mind was 
flooded with light. The whole subject was plain 
as the letters of the alphabet. I took a piece of 
paper, the size of my hand, and wrote the outlines 
as fast as my fingers could move. Then, with the 
ink scarcely dry, I seized my hat and coat, and 
ran to the church. Aisles, gallery, altar, pulpit, all 
were full — crowded as never before. The people 
were subdued, reverent, almost sad. Death was in 
the land. I commenced the service. All hearts 
and lips seemed moved to sing. I had great liberty 
in prayer. I read my text as quoted above. In- 
stantly my heart was moved, my brain was full, 
and my lips were unsealed. I think I preached 
that day as never before. I know I was surprised 
myself, and the highest expectations of my most 
ardent friends vastly more than met. Good was 
done, and God was glorified. So God oftentimes, 
for His own glory and our good, hides Himself, 
and then, at the last extreme, when all confidence 
in self is gone, reveals Himself, so that we may 



68 



FOOTPRINTS. 



the more fully understand that the excellency of 
the power is of God, and not of men. 

During our first winter at Clinton, a revival broke 
out at that point, which continued for three months, 
and about two hundred souls professed conversion. 
There were many incidents of interest connected 
with that revival. One I relate. A young man, 
twenty-one or twenty-two years of age, the son of 
Lutheran parents, became deeply awakened and con- 
cerned for his soul. This his family discovered, 
and very bitterly opposed. I became aware of this, 
and preached one night on the text, " A man's foes 
are they of his household." He was in the con- 
gregation. I went to him. He was weeping, and 
greatly troubled. I asked him if he would go to 
the altar as a seeker of salvation. He said he 
would if he knew he could get religion that night : 
' ( For, ' ' said he, " if I go to the altar and go home 
without religion, I cannot endure the tide of oppo- 
sition that will come against me ; but if I go to 
the altar and get religion, then I can stand firm 
and overcome. I encouraged him, and said, "You 
can get religion to-night, or any other time, as soon 
as you will give up to be saved entirely through 
the merits of Jesus Christ." He finally arose, went 
forward, and commenced in good earnest to pray. 
The meeting continued up to about ten o'clock, 



CLINTON CIRCUIT. 



69 



and then closed. The people were slowly retiring, 
until nearly all had gone ; but my young friend 
was kneeling and praying still. I went to him, 
and told him it was now time for us to go home. 
He replied, "I will never leave this place without 
religion — religion or death, here on this spot." This 
was a new phase of things, and somewhat startled 
me. Nevertheless, it showed a commendable fixed- 
ness of purpose, and seemed to me just and reason- 
able, inasmuch as God was not to be overcome or 
made willing, but simply ourselves ; so we resolved 
to go at the struggle again. A dozen or so were 
standing around, and we sang and prayed, and 
prayed and sang for an hour or more. I then 
said, (< We will have to go home now." The young 
man said, ' ' You can go if you must, but I shall 
never leave this place without religion." Seeing 
his resolution, and being much worn with protracted 
overwork, I said to four or five strong brethren, 
* ' Will you stay with him all night ? I must go 
to rest." They said they would, and they sang 
and prayed and rested, then sang and prayed again, 
until the day dawned. Somewhat late in the morn- 
ing I went round to the church, and found the 
young man in the same spot where I had left him 
the night before. I talked to him, but found him 
still in gloom. I said, "You are worn and ex- 



70 



FOOTPRINTS. 



hausted by the long kneeling and struggle you have 
passed through ; the morning is now far spent ; 
arise now, and let us go and get some refresh- 
ment ; you will then feel better. ' ' But he persisted 
still, saying, "I will never leave this spot without 
religion — religion or death here." I then labored 
with him for several hours. Once, during the time, 
a gleam of light broke in upon him. It was like 
the withdrawing of the black cloud from the face 
of the sun. His countenance was instantly wreathed 
in smiles; he sprang to his feet, threw himself into 
a seat, and pointing upwards, exclaimed joyfully, 
" There it is." Two or three utterances of praise, 
and then his countenance grew dark again ; and 
falling once more upon his knees, in the very spot 
he had knelt so long, buried his face in his hands, 
and wept and cried for mercy. The day was now 
passing, and leaving him in charge of others, I went 
home to rest for the night service. 

The religious excitement in the community was 
wide-spread, and had been rising for many weeks. 
The news of this case had gone out with great 
rapidity, and greatly intensified the interest. At 
night I went to meeting without a text or subject, 
supposing this young man would still be at the 
altar, and so, the excitement being great, there 
would be neither opportunity nor need of preaching. 



CLINTON CIRCUIT. 



71 



When I reached the church I found it crowded 
to its utmost capacity, and the young man sitting 
with the brethren, clothed and in his right mind. 
He had found the Saviour a little while before, 
after having knelt at the altar about twenty-two 
hours. Then came my trouble, for here was a vast 
congregation waiting for the Word of God, with 
the silence of death, and the deepest concern writ- 
ten upon every brow. They were singing the 
second hymn, and I was yet turning over the leaves 
of the Bible, hunting for a text, when at last my 
eyes rested on this passage, "We never saw it on 
this fashion." "That will do," I said, and God 
wonderfully helped me. It was a great meeting. 
Multitudes came to the altar, and among them this 
young man, who during the preaching, happy in 
God, had laughed in his joy at something that was 
said, saying, "That's so"; then, tempted of the 
devil, came forward to ask forgiveness. But the 
great struggle and long agony were over, and soon 
his countenance was again bathed in light that 
seemed divine ; then, in the midst of an almost 
unearthly silence, his heart and lips broke forth in 
a song, the words and time of which were never 
heard before or since, and seemed to that vast spell- 
bound congregation to have come directly from the 
throne of God. 



72 



FOOTPRINTS. 



Along in the latter half of November, of the 
second year, a medium-sized, middle aged man, mod- 
erately well-dressed, with downcast look, not over- 
prepossessing in appearance, — who, by the way, under 
rather peculiar circumstances, a stranger to all, and 
without much if any signs of religious life, had 
joined the church a little while before, — called at my 
house and asked me if I could marry him two weeks 
from the coming Saturday, at the house of the 
bride's mother, twelve miles away in the mountains. 

" I have fixed on Saturday two weeks, at 2 o'clock 
p. m.," he said, "because I knew it would be your 
appointment on the following day at the Mountain 
Church, which is not far off, and I thought in this 
way, you could attend the wedding and your ap- 
pointment the next day, all in one trip." 

"You are thoughtful," I replied, "and judging 
from your appearance, and my knowledge of the 
lady in question, there can be no doubt that }^ou 
are both of full age, and knowing no other legal 
difficulty, if Providence permits, I will be there at 
the time appointed." 

The sombre days of sober autumn came and went. 
The flowers in the garden had wilted, and the foli- 
age on the mountain-side had grown sear and 
yellow under the biting frosts. The fresh gales from 
the hills strewed the ground with falling leaves, 



CLINTON CIRCUIT 



73 



until dry and dead they rustled beneath our feet, 
or swirled in windy eddies along the. road-side. 
The fleecy clouds flitted across the burnished sky, 
as if hurrying to perform some unfinished work. 
Farmers were busy in gathering in the last frag- 
ment of some lingering crop, while the cattle lolled 
or dozed in the barn-yard's sunny side. The birds, 
with feathers ruffled by the fitful winds, were rapidly 
migrating southward, and everything was arranging 
for the stern days of rapidly approaching winter. 

Saturday two weeks came at last. It was early 
December, and a dark and dismal day indeed. The 
wind was due north-east and the air comfortless, 
while the sky, black and bending with its weight of 
storm-freighted clouds, threatened every moment to 
break in a storm. I said to my wife somewhat 
sadly: "It's a discouraging look for my mountain 
journey !" 

"It is, indeed," she answered, but knowing the 
importance of my going, she said as hopefully as 
she could, " It may be brighter soon." 

"I trust it may," was my response, "but appear- 
ances are not flattering." 

It was now nine o'clock. Eleven was the latest 
it would do to start, as it would take three full 
hours to ascend the mountain, and the wedding was 
to be at two. 



74 



FOOTPRINTS. 



"What shall I do," I asked of some younger 
men. "I have a wedding twelve miles up the 
mountain this afternoon; as the weather looks had 
I better go ? " 

"If you have a good fee before you, Dominie," 
said one dryly, "you had better go; if not, I would 
let them put it off." 

"Put it off," I said, somewhat excitedly, "who 
ever heard of putting off a wedding ! As to the fee, 
I would not as a simple business transaction, turn 
out in this prospective storm for four times what I 
will get. But if I fail to go they will never forgive 
me." With these words I turned my eyes once 
more to the heavens, when I felt a gentle mist fall 
upon my face. "It's raining now," I said, "but 
I must go; good-bye." 

I went into the house after this out-door consul- 
tation, and by this time my wife had become des- 
pondent and urged me not to go. "I don't want 
to go," I said, "for it is very cold, and a fearful 
storm I am persuaded, is just at hand ; the moun- 
tain travel will be difficult and lonely; besides all 
this, as it now looks, there will be no meeting at 
the Mountain Church to-morrow, and everything 
seems to forbid my going. But if I do not go, then 
what will become of the wedding party, and how 
can I justify nr^self with them?" 



CLINTON CIRCUIT. 



75 



It was now nearly eleven o'clock. Things were 
looking worse and worse, and a final decision as to 
my going must be reached at once. "I don't want 
to go," I said for the twentieth time. "But if I 
stay I shall not be happy, and I may as well be un- 
comfortable facing the storm in the way of duty, 
as to sit at home sheltered and warm, and yet un- 
comfortable in mind because duty is not being 
done." Then I said: "L,et Fanny be hitched up 
at once; storm or no storm, I will go." 

In half an hour I was on my way. When I 
reached the foot of the mountains, two miles away, 
things were worse than I had expected. Every- 
thing by this time was a glare of ice ; roads, rocks, 
fences, grass, shrubs, trees, nothing escaped. 

The further I went the worse things were. The 
mist grew thicker, the air colder, and the ice heavier. 
Trees were bowed beneath the rapidly increasing 
weight, and the long limbs from either side bending 
towards the middle of the road, touched the ground 
at short intervals all along. I did not know what 
moment a limb might fall and crush horse, carriage 
and driver. But to return now would be as difficult 
as to go forward. I must go on. 

It was now half past i o'clock, and I had made 
about nine miles of my journey. Coming to a short 
sharp rise of the mountain, a wagon was coming 



76 



FOOTPRINTS. 



down, the first I had seen since leaving home. I 
stopped at the foot to await its arrival. It proved 
to be filled with neighbors of ours in the valley below, 
who, having finished their work on the mountains, 
were on their way home to spend the Sabbath. On 
seeing me, all in great surprise exclaimed at once : 
"What in the world are you doing here, Dominie, 
in such a storm as this ? ' ' 

" I am here," I replied, " because I can't help it. 
How is the traveling beyond?" 

"Worse and worse, the further you go," was 
the discouraging reply. "But where are you go- 
ing?" they asked eagerly. 

' ' Going to a wedding three miles further up the 
mountains ; had I better try to make it or go back 
with you ? ' ' 

"Well," said one, I advise you to turn and go 
home with us." 

" But what will they do if I don't go? Good-bye, 
I will have to press on the best way I can." 

A mile and a half further, and I reached the top 
of the mountain, a broad plateau of several miles 
extent, where the traveling for such a day was 
tolerably good. I now began to congratulate my- 
self with the thought, not only that the worst was 
over, but in a little while I should be in the midst 
of pleasant surroundings, where I might thaw out 



CLINTON CIRCUIT. 



77 



my almost frozen limbs. By this time I had nearly 
reached a dark, dingy, unpainted house, standing 
by the wayside, with a lone window beneath a shed, 
looking down the road. Here at this window, my 
approach had been waited and watched. Coming 
up abreast with the building, accosted by a medium- 
sized, middle-aged man, I stopped. 

A second look revealed to me the person who 
had engaged me two weeks before, to marry him 
that day. 

"Oh, how do you do," I pleasantly exclaimed, as 
soon as I made the discovery, "we have a stormy 
day for this wedding business, haven't we?" 

"Yes, a wretched day," he said sorrowfully, 
"and I have bad news to tell you." 

"Bad news to tell me, why what is the matter?" 

"I a'n't going to be married," he answered des- 
pairingly. 

"A' n't going to be married," I exclaimed, al- 
most petrified with astonishment, "What do you 
mean; what's the reason you are not going to be 
married ? ' ' 

"Reason enough," he replied, "they won't let 
me have her." 

"Won't let you have her! Well, why in the 
world did you not let me know this before? I 
would not have come up the mountain on ordinary 



78 



FOOTPRINTS. 



business on such a day as this for the best twenty 
dollar bill to be found. Stand aside," I continued, 
* 4 I'll turn around and go home at once, for to- 
morrow, if the storm continues, I cannot get home." 

"No, don't go home," he said imploringly, "it 
may be better to-morrow, besides this, I wanted to 
see you, for I thought if you would go down to 
their house perhaps you might persuade them yet 
to let me have her." 

I now began to soften a little. It was a long 
way home, my horse was tired, and I was cold. 
Then, too, I was not over a half mile from my 
journey's end, perhaps I had better not go back. 
Besides all this, I began to feel an increasing in- 
terest in this queer affair. 

"Well," said I, "get in the carriage and go with 
me down the road." 

He obeyed, and we talked the matter all over. 
When we came to the long lane leading down to 
the house of the refused bride, on getting out of 
the carriage, he handed me a two dollar bill, saying 
with great earnestness, ' 1 Do try to persuade them 
to let me have her, won't you." 

As I rode along the lane, alone, over the rocks 
and through the woods, I began to feel as if I 
must levy a tax on this disappointment, and make 
it in some way contribute to my pleasure. So I 



CLINTON CIRCUIT. 



79 



determined to feign ignorance of what had just 
transpired, and go to the house as if I expected a 
wedding to come off in truth. 

I knew the family well. It consisted of a wid- 
owed mother, five maiden daughters, the youngest of 
whom was the lady in question, and a bachelor 
uncle, not far from sixty. It was an interesting 
Christian family; kind, good, faithful and true. As 
I drove up to the gate of the old-fashioned but 
comfortable farm house my approach was seen by 
the bachelor uncle, and before I had time to alight 
he greeted me with downcast eyes. 

"How do you do, my old friend, " I said cheer- 
fully, "it's a stormy day for a wedding, but you 
are all ready, I hope." 

"I don't know about being ready," he answered 
confusedly, "but go into the house, the gals will 
tell you all about it, I'll take care of your horse, 
go in." 

I approached the door. It was on the old style, 
divided in the centre, so that the upper part would 
swing open and the lower part remain shut. The 
hall was wide and short, opening into the sitting 
or dining room back. The mother's room was on 
the left of the hall, first floor, with door communi- 
cating with the sitting-room. On the lintel of the 
door a horse shoe was nailed, and rusty with age, 



80 



FOOTPRINTS. 



looked as if it had occupied that position for many 
years. Mother, who had reached at least three 
score years and ten, was short, stout, with rocking 
walk, of German mould, wearing a thick muslin 
cap, short gown, and wollen home-made skirt. As 
I entered through the hall into the large dining- 
room, she came from her apartment, adjoining, 
moaning as though her heart would break. 

"Why, what does all this mean,'' I asked with- 
out ceremony, "I have come through all this 
storm and distance to attend a wedding, but lo, I 
find nothing but gloom and mourning, without 
anything that looks like a wedding; pray what is 
the meaning of it all." 

"O, the Yankee," she exclaimed, "if we had 
never seen the good-for-nothing Yankee, we wouldn't 
had all this trouble." Then wiping her eyes, red 
with protracted weeping, she added: "Dear me, I 
never had so much trouble in all my life before." 

I pitied her from my heart, and asked sympathetic- 
ally, ' 1 what is the real cause of all this trouble ? 
I heard something of it before reaching here," I 
said, * ' and would now very much like to know 
the whole truth." 

She then proceeded to tell me all about it. This 
man who had engaged me to marry him, and whom 
she called "the good-for-nothing Yankee," had come 



CLINTON CIRCUIT. 



81 



into the neighborhood a few months before, a stran- 
ger, with a somewhat questionable reputation. Find- 
ing that the girls, at their mother's death, would 
come into the possession of a little property, he 
made love to the youngest daughter. As the family 
were all Christians, and his character not all that 
could be desired, he found but little encouragement. 
He then feigned conversion, and joined the church. 
After a few weeks he continued his overtures, and 
the very first word he received containing the slight- 
est intimation of favor, without a formal consent or 
engagement, fixed the time for the marriage him- 
self, and without the knowledge of the family, en- 
gaged the services of the minister, after which, to 
their great surprise and mortification, he told them 
what he had done. At this crisis they felt it neces- 
sary to make further and more particular inquir}^ 
into his character. 

The whole narrative was given with the deepest 
feeling, and sometimes an outburst of profoundest 
indignation, with frequent expressions of "Oh, the 
good-for-nothing Yankee ! he has brought all this 
trouble." 

After she had finished, I said to her: "My dear 
friend, if all this is true, and I see no reason to 
doubt your words, instead of grieving as you do, 
I think you have reason for the greatest joy that 



82 



FOOTPRINTS. 



you discovered these facts before it was too late. 
Your daughter is not married, and as the matter 
now stands, is not likely to be to this unworthy 
man. I,et us, therefore, have no more sorrow about 
it, but rather let us all rejoice. Where are the 
girls ? ' ' I asked pleasantly ; ' ' come, let us have a 
real nice wedding dinner all to ourselves, without 
a marriage.' ' 

"The girls are all up stairs," she answered, 
"ashamed to come down, and besides that, it's too 
late for dinner now." 

"Very well, let us have supper then;" and going 
to the door, I called up the stairway for the girls 
to come down, for I saw that their minds must be 
diverted in some way from this great mortification 
which had come upon them. 

After a little hesitation, one after another they 
came slowly down, looking sad and gloomy, until, 
last of all, the bride that was to have been appeared 
wearing a pleasant smile. 

"Well done!" I exclaimed, "the most cheerful 
of you all, and well she may be, for she has made 
a happy escape; and over this joyous deliverance 
let us all be glad. Come now, I have had a long, 
cold and cheerless journey ; let us forget all this 
unpleasantness, and have a beautiful wedding supper 
without the groom, whose absence from this com- 



CLINTON CIRCUIT. 



83 



pany increases, rather than diminishes, our pleasure. 

By this time they began to see a little of the 
bright side of this gloomy transaction ; and the hesi- 
tancy they had felt at seeing me, under the circum- 
stances, being passed, they now experienced less 
embarrassment, and cheerfulness began to assume 
its sway. In a little while we sat down to a repast 
grand enough to satisfy a king. By sundown the 
storm had somewhat abated, and we spent the even- 
ing in pleasant reminiscences of the past, then slept 
profoundly. When Sabbath morning came the sky 
was without a cloud. The majestic sun arose in 
dazzling splendor ; and it seemed as if legions of 
angels had been busy during the night glazing 
every spear of grass, and rail and rock, and shrub 
and tree, even the solid earth itself, with ice, which 
glowed in the morning's glory like burnished gold. 
The scene was one of surpassing grandeur. The 
palaces of India, sparkling with costliest gems and 
jewels, would have been nothing compared with the 
topaz and amethysts, sapphires and jaspers, which 
in that morning hour flashed in unearthly beauty 
from everything the eye beheld. 

We went to church ; the house was full. News 
of the expected wedding had spread far and wide, 
and the people came to see the bridal pair. But 
the bride walked to church with her sister, and 



84 



FOOTPRINTS. 



as she entered the house every eye was fixed upon 
her, and seeing her without a husband, blank amaze- 
ment sat on every face. The story was soon told, 
and she was congratulated, not indeed that she had 
gained a husband, but that she had escaped a snare, 
which, had she fallen into it, would in all proba- 
bility have destroyed her happiness for life. 

The success attending the efforts of our church 
during the year awakened a good deal of denomi- 
national opposition, and the old Calvanistic preju- 
dices were sometimes aroused to the highest degree. 
The pulpit was arrayed against us, and social in- 
fluence exerted its power to arrest our progress. 
But the flame of revival swept on as if there had 
been nothing but paper to stay its waves of fire. 
God was with His people, and the tides of joy 
surged on like the sound of many waters. We 
closed the year, despite all opposition, in jubilant 
songs of grandest triumph. 

The next year, 1850, while the numbers con- 
verted were not so great, yet we had most blessed 
revivals of religion at Mount Salem and Allertown. 
At the latter place, Rev. J. G. Crale, now a mem- 
ber of the New Jersey Conference, was converted 
in my arms. And here, as during the previous 
year, the Calvanistic opposition became so strong 



CLINTON CIRCUIT. 



85 



that I felt compelled to confront it squarely, and so 
carefully prepared two sermons on Rom. 8, 29-31; 
and with the Calvanistic confession of faith in my 
hand, I went to the pulpit, preached my sermon, 
and read copious extracts from their own confes- 
sion, many of those who had subscribed to the 
sentiments, hearing them for the first time, from 
my lips, that day. It would not be modest in me 
to speak of the character of the sermons; suffice it 
to say that Calvanism troubled us no more during 
my stay at Clinton. 



86 



FOOTPRINTS. 



CHAPTER VII. 

NEWARK, MORRISTOWN AND BEU,EVIU,E. 

From Clinton Circuit, where I preached to the 
same congregation, in the regular appointments, 
but once in four weeks, we were removed by the 
order of the Church, in 1851, to Halsey Street 
Church, Newark, N. J., where duty required me to 
preach to the same people three times a day on 
Sabbaths. Added to this, I followed the eloquent 
and justly popular Samuel Y. Monroe. A new, 
large and, for those days, very costly church edifice 
was to be built. Here was a great change, and one 
that required all my ability to meet. I had been 
connected with the Conference but seven years, and 
while I felt the compliment of such an appoint- 
ment, I at the same time felt the responsibility was 
very great indeed. 

After getting settled, I said to the president of 
the board of trustees, ' ' What shall I do for you ? ' ' 
He answered, " First get acquainted with the peo- 
ple.' ' I commenced my pastoral work with fear 
and trembling, knowing that everywhere I should 
hear my predecessor praised in unmeasured terms, 



NEWARK, MORRISTOWN AND BELLEVILLE. 87 



for, added to his usual popularity, he had closed up 
his- services there in the midst of a glorious revival 
of religion. As I expected, so it was, and every- 
where I went it was the same. They all asked me 
if I knew their old pastor, dear Brother Monroe. 
I told them, yes, I had known him intimately for 
sixteen or seventeen years, that we had joined the 
same church about the same time in the city of 
Philadelphia, that we were teachers and officers in 
the same Sabbath school, sat side by side in the 
same Bible class, had commenced our ministry the 
same year on adjoining circuits ; that I knew him 
well, knew his wife, and knew his daughter; and 
that he was one of the most blessed men in all 
the land. Finding I knew him so much better 
than they did, they ceased their praises and listened 
to mine ; and I have often thought that the man- 
ner in which I spoke of my predecessor added in 
no small degree to any little popularity which I 
had in that charge. Be that as it may, the praise 
was just, and I bestowed it with an honest heart. 

By midsummer of the first year at this new 
charge, arrangements for commencing the proposed 
new building were complete. The old house was 
then removed and placed upon a temporary founda- 
tion in the rear; and notice having been given for 
a number of weeks in the public newspapers, that 



88 



FOOTPRINTS. 



those persons having friends buried in the imme- 
diate rear of where the new building was to stand, 
should remove them, or if they failed to do so by 
a given date, the trustees would, at their own ex- 
pense, and with all the care and delicacy possible^ 
perform the work themselves. The removal of these 
bodies became a necessity from the fact that inter- 
ments had been made in the old burial-ground from 
time to time until they had crowded up to the 
very walls of the old church, and now, as the new 
building was to run a number of feet deeper into 
the graveyard, fifty or more bodies must be re- 
moved to make way for the new foundation. 

Meanwhile, a camp meeting was announced to be 
held at Red Bank, Monmouth County, N. J. To 
this, as I was somewhat worn, it was decided to 
go, in the view that the change might be a relief 
from the already heavy toil of the city charge. 
After a pleasant meeting, to which we went and 
from which we returned in the beautiful yacht of 
Mr. Tompkins, of Newark, we came back to the 
scene of our labors, to find the Church and com- 
munity in an intense state of excitement. In re- 
moving the bodies from the graveyard, though the 
greatest possible care was taken by the workmen, 
yet the remains in many instances were so nearly 
all gone to dust and ashes, that sometimes little 



NKWARK, MORRISTOWN AND BELLEVILLE. 89 



pieces of bone, a half or an inch long, would escape 
their notice, and be lost in the earth they were 
removing. These were carefully sought for by the 
enemies of the new church enterprise, and, being 
found, were exhibited around the town to our in- 
jury, until a very unhappy condition of things pre- 
vailed. To add to the flame, an article appeared 
in the Newark Daily Advertiser ', which contained so 
many falsehoods that it seemed necessary to ferrit 
out the author, and counteract the falsehoods with 
the truth ; so, aided by one of the trustees, I set 
about the work. After diligent search, I found the 
article was written by a boy, fifteen years old, em- 
ployed about the printing-office where the article 
was published. After a pretty severe rebuke, we 
required him to write another article, in which he 
should tell the public that he wrote what he did 
not from knowledge, but from hearsay; that he 
now learned they were false ; that he was only 
fifteen years old, and ought not to have meddled 
with things he knew nothing about ; and that he 
was sorry for any injury he had done to the Church 
and the cause of God, and hoped to be forgiven. 
To this paper we required him to sign his name. 
He did all this cheerfully, and was glad to get off 
so easy. This article we required the Advertiser 
to publish, which they did ; and here the excite- 



90 



FOOTPRINTS. 



ment largely ceased. It may be a matter of interest 
to note in this connection that this lad, afterwards, 
became converted, then entered the ministry, and 
finally became — and for a number of years has been, 
and up to the date of this writing still remains — 
one of our most useful and popular missionaries to 
China. 

The corner stone of the new building was laid by 
Bishop James, on September 2d, 1851; and then, 
after a series of great and protracted discourage- 
ments, and much hard labor on the part of the 
trustees, congregation and pastor, it was dedicated 
by Bishop James, on Thanksgiving Day, 1852. It 
cost about $18,000, had 1,260 sittings, and would 
contain, when crowded, 1,400 or 1,500 people. I 
thought then, and have not changed my opinion 
much since, that it was one of the grandest audi- 
ence rooms in Methodism. After entering the new 
church, we had a blessed revival of religion, in 
which some of the present official members of the 
church w r ere converted. In this revival I was very 
largely assisted by Rev. J. F. Morrel, of the New 
Jersey Conference. 

My mental anxieties while at Newark were so 
great that a physical difficulty w T as superinduced, 
which caused me great suffering, and continued with 
more or less severity for a period of about twelve 



NEWARK, MORRISTOWN AND BELLEVILLE. 91 

years, threatening at one time to put an end to rny 
active ministries, if not to close my life. 

My religious experience improved at Newark. 
The preacher's class was composed of some of the 
grandest Christians I ever knew — women who daily 
walked and talked with God. Their experience 
was such that, whatever help I may have been to 
them as their leader, they greatly helped me. These 
class meetings were so spiritually intellectual and 
blessed, that they are shrined in memory as some 
of the greenest spots of earth. 

About this time I became deeply interested in 
Upham's works— 4 ' Interior Life," "Life of Faith," 
"Divine Union," etc. Under the influence of their 
teachings, I preached a sermon on ' ' Prove with all 
saints, what is the length and breadth, and depth 
and heighth, and know the love of God which 
passeth knowledge," etc. At the close of that ser- 
mon, one of the most blessed and devoted sisters 
of that church reached over two or three pews, and 
grasping my hand, said: "Hold on to that, brother; 
you have never been that far before." I did try 
to hold on, and to go further onward still. Many 
of the Halsey-Street friendships remain fresh and 
green to this day. 

In 1853 we were appointed to Morristown. It 
proved to us, like Elam in the wilderness, a place 



92 



FOOTPRINTS. 



of beauty and of rest. No words that I can use, 
no figures of speech I might employ, can ever un- 
fold the feelings of my heart on going to this new 
appointment. Our sorrow at leaving the dear friends 
we had made in Newark, many of whom have been 
life-long, was deep and real; and yet the sense of 
relief from the too heavy burden of care and anx- 
iety was so blessed, that for a time I felt like one 
released from crushing toil which had long bowed 
me to the earth. But the strain upon my system 
had been so great for the last two years, that an 
immediate return to former vigor could not be 
gained at once. 

Nevertheless, I entered upon my work at Morris- 
town, comparatively so light, with the agility of 
unstrained brain and nerve. It really seemed a 
holiday or recreation, rather than toil. Everything 
had inspiration in it. The scenery, the air, the 
town, the people, the church, all were congenial. 
It seemed a real pleasure to live and work. Pos- 
sibly the change and inspiration were too great. 
There seemed to be an expressed appreciation of 
my services on the part of the people that uncon- 
sciously moved me on beyond my strength, until 
it seemed as if I dwelt in an elysian atmosphere, 
or had reached the land of Beulah. I realized 
more fully than ever my position as a Gospel minis- 



NEWARK, MORRISTOWN AND BELLEVILLE. 93 



ter. Life thus far had been a range of low hills. 
Fdr the last two years I had been climbing up the 
short, jagged sides of an abruptly ascending moun- 
tain. At Morristown I reached the summit. The 
prospect was unexpressibly grand ; and as I sat 
down, more or less exhausted with the ascent, angels 
seemed to fan my brow, and my heart was consoled 
with the inward whispering, * ' Well done. ' ' But with 
the summer came a reaction. I had gone too fast 
and too far. Friends saw it before I did, and feared. 
Soon, absolute prostration and suffering came. I was 
advised to go away from home, and rest. I went 
from home, but I had got in such a way that I 
could not be inactive; I must do something. So, 
while away, I wrote "Recruiting Rambles/' which 
were published in the Morristown Banner. 

After being absent a few weeks, I reached New- 
ark on my return, so weak and undone, that at 
the house of my dear friend, David Campbell, I 
thought, for a little while, the time of my depar- 
ture had come. ' But I rallied again, and after a 
couple of weeks was enabled to go home. I shall 
never forget my experience in being once more in 
our parsonage. The air of Morristown was brac- 
ing. There was a freedom from mosquitoes, and 
withal, cooler weather, until it seemed like heaven 
to be at home. With autumn and frost 1 rallied 



94 



FOOTPRINTS. 



and grew better. We remained in Morristown two 
years, both of which were years of revival and gen- 
eral prosperity. 

I had, during my term at Morristown, a pretty 
hard battle in the temperance cause. I took a 
bold, determined, and outspoken stand in its favor ; 
and was as strongly opposed by some who were 
considered high in social and professional position. 
The Church, however, stood unitedly and strongly 
by me, and we went through triumphantly on that 
line. As a result, one of the leading lawyers of the 
place, strongly opposed to me, in derision cast his 
vote for me for Governor. I laughed at his fool- 
ishness, and he lost his vote. A sermon, preached 
about that time, was indeed the shell in the enemy's 
camp. 

While at Morristown I wrote the life of Rev. 
John Hancock, for fifty years a local minister of the 
Gospel. This writing was mostly done in the morn- 
ing, before light, and was to me a real pleasure. 
Financially, it never paid me ; in other respects it 
did pay. 

The mind, in running over those days, calls up 
names and faces whose kindness can never be for- 
gotten in this world or the world to come. The 
scenery, the people, the church, the prosperity which 
crowned our efforts, — these all conspire to make it 



NEWARK, MORRISTOWN AND BBLLKVILLK. 95 



one of the places where rests the brightest sunlight, 
arid around which lingers the fragrance of holiest 
memories. 

In 1855 we were removed to Belleville. I, like 
most others that year, had no knowledge of what 
my appointment would be until it was announced 
by the Bishop. As he slowly read the names, the 
brethren generally were busy writing them down. 
After awhile, he read " Belleville— E. H. Stokes.' 9 
I had the names of the appointments written on a 
slip of paper, so that when the Bishop read, I had 
simply to write the name of the person opposite 
the name of the place to which he was assigned. 
When, therefore, he read ' ' Belleville— E. H. Stokes," 
the whole thing was such a perfect and complete 
surprise that I wrote opposite " Belleville ' ' " E. H. 
Sto" — the pencil fell from hand, and the balance 
of the name on that paper remains unwritten yet. 
But while I could not see the wisdom of the 
appointment then, I have thought since, it was per- 
haps the very best thing that could have taken 
place, as my energies, too long and severly over- 
taxed, would have opportunity to relax. So I 
rested ; this being the only charge and year of my 
ministry where I did not hold a protracted meet- 
ing. We found the people pleasant, however, and 
enjoyed the place as much as could be expected ; 



96 



FOOTPRINTS. 



but the year, much to our regret, passed without 
visible fruit. 

Still, there were many pleasant things about the 
appointment. It was near to Newark, where we 
had been stationed but two years before, and where 
w^e still had many friends. It was beautifully 
located along the romantic little Passaic River, and 
was interesting on that account. Our daughter, 
too, at this place, became deeply interested and de- 
lighted in a little select school, which, by a little 
effort, we succeeded in establishing. Of all her 
school days, perhaps those spent at Belleville were 
the most pleasant. While there she became absorb- 
ingly interested in the beautiful art of drawing, and 
some of the most valued things she has left behind 
her are the productions of her pencil while attend- 
ing that little retired, but always fondly cherished, 
Belleville school. 



NEW BRUNSWICK. 



97 



CHAPTER VIII. 

NEW BRUNSWICK. 

In 1856 we were appointed to Pitman Church, 
New Brunswick, N. J. At the General Conference of 
that year the New Jersey Conference was divided ; 
and as the Raritan River, running on the northern 
edge of the city, was the dividing line, New Bruns- 
wick fell on the New Jersey Conference side, and 
my membership consequently was with that body. 
At that time, as I had labored for the seven years 
just previously on territory included in what was 
now the Newark Conference boundaries, I felt a 
strong desire to remain with the brethren in that 
division ; but with the roll of years, I have felt it 
was best as it is, and so am not only perfectly 
satisfied, but pleased with things as they are. 

My first year at New Brunswick was labor in 
the midst of much discouragement. I thought per- 
haps we had done wrong to leave Belleville at the 
expiration of one year. There seemed to be here 
little or no more opportunity or hope of usefulness 
than there. The religious condition of the Church 
was low, and it seemed as if everything drifted 



98 



FOOTPRINTS. 



down the stream towards the dead sea of formality. 
I held a protracted meeting during the first winter, 
in which the eloquent, but now sainted, George W. 
Batchelder, then in the first year of his ministry 
and stationed at Millstone, was my frequent helper. 
But all was dark, cold, and dreary. My own feel- 
ings were often indescribable; my temptations were 
numerous and powerful; my discouragements very 
great. I often thought I was in the wrong place, 
and wished myself away. Still we held on, not by 
sight or sound, but by faith alone. The weather 
most of the time of our meeting was very cold ; 
during its progress that never-to-be-forgotten snow- 
storm of January 18th, 1857, occurred. On the 
13th of January, Brother G. W. Batchelder preached 
an excellent sermon; but my diary says, "O Lord, 
who shall move the people?'' January 14th, it 
says, "No move among the people." January 15th — 
"No move." January 16th — "No move." January 
1 8th — "Sabbath, the day and night of the terrible 
storm. At night held meeting in the lecture room ; 
forty-seven persons present ; felt well, but no move. 
'O Lord, who shall move the people?'" January 
19th — "Streets blockaded with snow; no meeting." 
January 20th — ' ' Feel a good deal discouraged ; ' Lord, 
help.'" January 21st — "Had a good meeting at 
night, but no move." January 23d — "Had quite a 



NEW BRUNSWICK. 



99 



turn-out at meeting, though severly cold. ' Lord, 
help the people; help me."' January 24th, — "An 
intensely cold day ; received a letter from a friend, 
in which he made me a present of a debt which 
I owed him of thirty-five dollars." This warmed 
my heart with gratitude, and the record in my 
diary is, ' ' May the Lord bless him for all his kind- 
ness to me, and for this last act in particular. 
Amen." January 25th, — "Sabbath evening; felt 
much discouraged ; but at the close of the meet- 
ing, Brother Fine arose and stated that he had sat 
under Methodist preaching for thirty-seven years, 
and had never been more blessed than he had this 
year." This encouraged me. The result of my 
first year in Pitman Church was thirteen persons 
received on probation. The second year commenced 
more encouragingly. 

A month or two after Conference, the tide of 
spirituality, which had seemed to be at a low ebb 
for more than a year, began to move : a little sen- 
sation — some signs of life — occasional droppings 
from above ; still, nothing very special. The prayer 
meetings were not large. The evening lectures were 
steadily attended by a few faithful ones, who never 
allowed an evening to pass without being present. 

Under date, Sabbath, October 31st, 1857, this note 
is in my diary : "A very blessed day ; the power of 



100 



FOOTPRINTS. 



God is about to be displayed.' ' The next note is 
Sabbath, November 8th — "A very good day indeed." 
The next is Friday, November 13th — "A very re- 
markable meeting ; the power of God came upon 
the people, and the rejoicing was very great ; two 
came forward to the altar." This is all I have 
written of that meeting. My memory concerning 
it is about as follows : — 

The meeting commenced as usual ; as nearly as 
I can tell, there were about twenty-five persons 
present. Brothers Miller, Owen, Price, Durham, 
Eling, and Bro. Smith, who was always present, 
are about all I distinctly remember. Sister Peterson 
and her daughter Sarah I clearly remember among 
the sisters ; who else, I cannot now tell. For a 
time the meeting w 7 as rather dull. I think I gave 
an exhortation, and invited those who w T ould like 
to have a new baptism of the Spirit to come up to 
the altar. Nearly all in the house came — and came 
praying. As we all knelt around the altar, they 
say I prayed, and prayed a great while. That may 
be — I do not know, but I know all prayed. We 
got lower and lower at the Master's feet, like her 
of old, who was willing to take even the crumbs 
that fell from the table. After awhile, the power 
came — came like a rushing, mighty wind — came as 
I never knew it before or since — came in over- 



NEW BRUNSWICK. 



101 



mastering might and majesty. Men and women 
fell under its power like leaves before the autumn 
blast. Such a commotion I never saw ; prayers, 
praises, hallelujahs, amens, glory — glory — glory, were 
shouted from the lips of all, seemingly at the same 
moment ; while some fell one way and some another, 
others leaping and jumping, and all triumphing in 
the wonderful works of God. It was our Pente- 
cost, as real and powerful as that which visited the 
disciples in the upper room at Jerusalem. Brother 
Eling, whose lips had been dumb ever since his 
connection with the Church, spoke that night, and 
continued to speak at every opportunity. Brother 
Owen prayed with wonderful power. Sister Peterson 
and daughter both lost their strength. The commo- 
tion was so great that persons came from all round 
the neighborhood to see what was the matter. They 
gazed in at windows and opened the doors, not 
knowing what strange thing had happened. It was 
a long time before we got home, and when we did 
we carried the influence of that meeting with us. 

That meeting was the commencement of a revival 
which continued up to the next Conference, a period 
of four months, in which considerably over two 
hundred souls professed to find peace with God. 
I think there was not a meeting from that night 
up to Conference, when the opportunity was given, 



102 



FOOTPRINTS. 



that there were not seekers of religion at the altar, 
and perhaps not a single meeting at which some 
were not converted. Between two and three hun- 
dred were converted at that revival ; two hundred 
joined the Pitman Church. 

On the 2nd of December my only child came to 
the altar, a weeping penitent. After she returned 
to the parsonage, and had retired to rest, she found 
peace with God in a little room on the second 
floor, within a few feet of the spot, where, a little 
over four years after, she resigned her spirit into 
the hands of Him, who that night said ' ' Thy 
sins are all forgiven thee." 

On Sabbath, December 6th, she, with five others, 
joined the church, and she remained faithful until 
God took her to Himself. 

How do we account for these special manifesta- 
tions of divine power and influence? We say that 
God is always on the giving hand, and it is only 
necessary to ask and receive, and yet there are 
times when it would seem as if God was especially 
well pleased to favor. 

The occasion referred to above, was one of these 
set times — and during the long months of spiritual 
sadness which preceded, there was a preparation 
going on for that blessed visitation. The heart 
must get down to the point where the woman 



NEW BRUNSWICK. 



103 



came, when she said, ' 1 The dogs eat of the crumbs 
which fall from their master's table"; and if it takes 
six years, or six months, or only six hours, then, 
and not till then, will the special blessing come. 

[From a powerful sermon delivered at the close 
of his ministry at this place, the publishers excerpt 
the following :] 

* * Another dement of strength that I shall 
mention is, unshaken faith in God. This is the 
high rock upon which you may stand firmly. Faith 
in God gives courage to the soul, and power to 
the life of man. There is nothing more simple, 
nothing more beautiful, nothing more mighty, than 
faith. It conquers kingdoms, quenches the fire, 
removes mountains, produces moral resurrections, 
brings the dead to life, makes the weak and trem- 
bling strong. It gives vitality, life and power to 
the church. It is the great instrument by which 
earth must be raised to heaven. 

" Faith, mighty faith, the promise sees, 
And looks to this alone ; 
Laughs at impossibilities, 
And cries, it shall be done." 

Have faith in God. All things work together for 
good. No matter how dark or starless be the 
night, how loud and fearful be the storm, how damp 



104 



FOOTPRINTS. 



and dismal be the day, have faith. God is with 
thee, though unseen — He is thy Lord and guide. 
Let the vessel float on, the winds and the tides 
are not accidents ; every movement of them, every 
rolling wave, every breath of wind is under a divine 
control. The Pilot is awake when He seems to 
sleep. 

4 1 Every human tie may perish ; 

Friend to friend unfaithful prove, 
Mothers cease their own to cherish, 
Heaven and earth at last remove, 

But no changes 
Can attend Jehovah's love. 
In the furnace God may prove thee, 

Thence to bring thee forth more bright, 
But can never cease to love thee, 
Thou art precious in His sight. 

God is with thee — 
God, thine everlasting light." 

Have faith in God's word. Take it as the great 
ruling principle of your lives. Let these young 
people take it as their guide — you shall lose noth- 
ing by so doing. 

On a New Year's morning, four workmen ap- 
peared in the presence of their employer, an honest 
Quaker, to present their compliments and receive 
their usual New Year's present. " Well, my 
friends," said the Quaker, ''here are your gifts; 



NEW BRUNSWICK. 



105 



choose two dollars, or the Bible.' ' "I don't know 
how to read," said the first, "so I take the 
money." "I can read," said the second, "but I 
have pressing wants." So he took the money also. 
The third made the same choice. He now came 
to the fourth, a young lad of about thirteen or 
fourteen. The Quaker looked at him with an air 
of goodness. * ' Will you take these two dollars, 
which you may obtain at any time by your labor 
and industry?" "As you say the Book is good, I 
will take it and read from it to my mother, ' ' replied 
the boy. He took the Bible, opened it, and found 
between the leaves a gold piece worth five dollars. 
The others held down their heads, and the Quaker 
told them he was sorry they had not made a bet- 
ter choice. 

So take and read, and have faith in the Bible; 
and although you may seem to the world to have 
made a poor choice, and to have lost, yet between 
its precious leaves you will find more than the gold 
that perishes — even the fine gold that maketh rich 
forever: and though the wicked may laugh at first 
at your foolish choice, yet at last, when they be- 
hold your eternal gain, they will hang down their 
heads in unspeakable shame forever. O, then, have 
faith in God, and in His word. Fear not, be 
strong ! 



106 



FOOTPRINTS. 



The last element of religious strength that I shall 
name is, the prospect of reaching heaven at last. 
What so fires the heart as a hope of heaven? 
Hope, considered as a simple element of the human 
soul, gives nerve and energy. See the soldier, in 
the hottest of the battle, the hope of victory enables 
him to put forward almost superhuman efforts. So 
the mariner, though the tempest is fierce, and 
continues long, yet hope enables him to maintain 
the unequal strife, until the forms of the "loved 
ones at home" are clasped to his weary heart. 
Hope brightens the eye, gives elasticity to the step, 
brushes away the world's darkness, plants flowers 
along our pilgrim pathway, and gives us songs in 
the night. But O, when we add heaven to our 
hope, and say, as we pass on in our weary earth 
march, "a Hope of Heaven," what rapture thrills 
the soul. * * * 

Thank God that in this world of partings and 
of sorrow, we are permitted to enjoy a hope of 
heaven ! Take away from the Christian his hope, 
and you take away his jo} r , his strength, his crown; 
for if in this life only we have hope, we are of 
all men most miserable. The truth is, my breth- 
ren, we are often weak and joyless in our Christian 
experience, because we turn our attention so little 
to heavenly things. * * * 



NEW BRUNSWICK. 



107 



What shall I say to you, my dear children in 
the Lord? My heart yearns over you — God bless 
you, my children. O ! be faithful — attend to all 
the means of grace — the public service of God — 
listen to the preached word — try to mark, learn 
and inwardly digest all the preacher says — receive 
the new preacher as your friend — as such he will 
come — seek his acquaintance — don't shun him — tell 
him your troubles if you have any — let him always 
see you in the house of God on the Sabbath, ' ' re- 
member the Sabbath day to keep it holy," — go to 
the prayer- meeting, to the Lecture, to the class- 
meeting. O! don't neglect your class — if you feel 
cast down, go," "they that wait on the Lord shall 
renew their strength," pray in secret, twice a day 
always — three times if you can, pray in your 
families — read the Bible — watch and be sober — if 
you will do so you will be safe — "resist the Devil 
and he will flee from you." Now, my dear breth- 
ren and sisters, will you meet me in heaven? By 
the grace of God I hope to get there — I shall look 
out for you — shall I see you? Come on, if you 
come limpingly and slow, only come — a crown is 
before you — labor for it — let no man take it — seize 
it and wear it forever. O! ye lambs of the flock, 
I, as Christ's under shepherd, warn you, beware 
of wandering from the fold — beware of seducers and 



108 



FOOTPRINTS. 



evil men — press on in your heavenly race, and find 
your home in heaven. 

O! ye who are still out of Christ and away from 
God, what shall I say to you — I pity you — Christ 
still waits to save you — will you still reject life 
and madly die ? O ! turn to-night and seek an in- 
jured Saviour. But my work is done, the harvest 
is past, the summer ended, and you are not saved. 
As your pastor, I bid you to-night, in all human 
probabilities, an eternal farewell — may we all meet 
in Heaven. 

" There all the ship's company meet, 

Who sailed with their Saviour beneath, 
With shouting, each other they greet, 
And triumph o'er sorrow and death." 

" The voyage of life's at an end, 
The world's affliction is past, 
The age that in heaven we'll spend, 
Forever and ever shall last." 



CAMDEN AND TRENTON. 



109 



CHAPTER IX. 

CAMDKN AND TRENTON. 

In the spring of 1858 the Conference was held 
in Camden, Bishop Baker presiding. At the close 
of that Conference, he announced my name as the 
pastor of the Third Street Church. It may seem 
strange, and yet I had never looked upon Camden 
as a desirable field of labor. It seemed to me so 
overshadowed by Philadelphia, and most of its people 
so occupied with business there, as to allow but 
little opportunity for spiritual culture. In this I 
was greatly mistaken. I found many of the people 
the most exalted in spiritual attainments of any 
with whom I had ever labored. They had reached 
sublime altitudes, where the atmosphere is still, and 
the sky clear. 

My whole time there was a kind of spiritual 
ovation or jubilee, that filled all hearts with joy. 
My own health was poor, so that I often felt each 
Sabbath as it came must be my last of labor ; but 
the succeeding one brought the needed strength, 
so that I was enabled to keep on my way. We 
scarcely held any extra meeting during my term, 



110 



FOOTPRINTS. 



and yet it was all extra meeting. We never had 
cold, dry, or profitless times. Each service had the 
divine blessing, and the unction of the Holy One 
rested upon us. Without what are usually called 
special services, we received, during the two years, 
one hundred and sixteen on probation. They were 
golden years, never to be forgotten. 

On the 20th day of October, 1859, still at Third 
Street, I had a new T and to me most remarkable 
experience. I had for years realized a very per- 
cept able growth in grace, and the more I grew, the 
more I longed to grow, to be filled with all the 
fulness of God. I can best set forth this experi- 
ence by a verbatum extract, written at the time, 
as follows : 

"I wish to record, to the glory and praise of 
Divine grace, that between the hours of seven 
and eight o'clock this evening (October twentieth, 
1859), God gave to me, one of His most unworthy 
creatures, a clear, calm, quiet, yet unmistakable evi- 
dence that I am entirely His, through the blood of 
the slain Lamb of God. For a long while, even for 
the last seven years, with greater or less intensity, 
but especially for the last three months, my soul 
has longed for the fulness of that redemption which 
I have seen was my privilege to enjoy in Christ. 
This afternoon, as I was about to engage in my 



CAMDEN AND TRENTON. 



Ill 



pastoral work, I sat down and wrote to the woman's 
prayer meeting, which meets weekly on Thursday 
afternoon, and which my wife attends, requesting 
them to pray for the baptism of the Holy' Ghost 
upon the church generally, upon the official mem- 
bers particularly, but especially upon me, who, in 
a ministry of sixteen years, had never felt so much 
the need of Divine aid as now, that I might be 
prepared for my high and holy work. They met, 
five of them, my wife with them, and while I 
visited and prayed and talked with the people, 
they prayed that their pastor might be baptized 
with the Holy Ghost. God heard and answered. 
After I had returned to my family and had taken 
tea, I retired to my study, fell upon my knees, 
and there, in the twilight, alone with God, the 
Divine baptism came. Not as I expected it, but 
soft and still as lightest snowflakes fall, it came 
and filled my soul. I am happier now than I 
have ever been • not more extatic, but calmer, 
sweeter rest is mine. Satan does not tempt me 
now ! he may, and doubtless will, but he does 
not now ! Nothing disturbs the holy joy. Christ 
has said, ' Be still/ and the calm is too deep for 
Satan to disturb at this time. The rough, restless 
waves of perhaps an over-anxious spirit have sub- 
sided, and the calm is heaven. 



112 



FOOTPRINTS. 



"Now then, my God, Thou hast my soul, 
No longer mine, but Thine I am ; 
Guard Thou Thine own, possess it whole, 
Cheer it with hope, with love inflame ; 
Thou hast my spirit, there display 
Thy glory to the perfect day." 

So I wrote then, and a great deal more than I 
have time or space to transcribe. Let it be suffi- 
cient to say that the 20th of October has always 
since been a red-letter day, and the experience then 
commenced has been retained and enlarged. 

In i860 we were appointed to Greene Street, Tren- 
ton. The State Street Church had been organized 
and gone into operation the year before. This new 
organization was largely made up from the member- 
ship of Greene Street Church. It left the mother 
church greatly weakened, and to some extent dis- 
couraged. Nevertheless, there were many left who 
had heart and wills to work. God was with us 
from the beginning, and His cause prospered. The 
first winter about one hundred and sixty were added 
to our number, and the people greatly rejoiced. 

The next year the war broke out, and we had 
exciting times in Trenton. For two or three weeks 
the church was used as barracks for the soldiers. 
In the first draft made upon the county there were 
many rough men, and as the parsonage was next 



CAMDEN AND TRENTON. 



113 



door to the church, it was as near perdition as I 
ever wish to be. After the first excitement was 
over, we became calmer, and my second year at 
Trenton ended as well as could be expected. 



114 



FOOTPRINTS. 



CHAPTER X. 

NKW BRUNSWICK AND TRENTON AGAIN. 

I had now been absent from Pitman Church, 
New Brunswick, four years. During this time 
division and trouble had crept in among them, so 
that in 1862 it was thought best to return me 
to that charge. 

For more than a year our precious daughter had 
been in declining health, and at moving time her 
condition was alarming. It was one of the most 
trying periods of our history ; yet God brought us 
through, and soon we were settled in our old home 
in the Pitman parsonage. We entered upon our 
work, and met the difficulties as best we could ; but 
there were soon troubles to be grappled with at 
home. These almost consumed us, until at last, on 
the 31st of July, 1862, about eight o'clock in the 
evening, our darling daughter passed in holy triumph 
to the spirit world. This was the great grief of 
our lives. More need not now be said. After her 
death I prepared and published, for gratuitous dis- 
tribution only, a simple little memorial of her life. 
It has been a great joy to me to know that this 



NEW BRUNSWICK AND TRBNTON AGAIN. 115 



tribute from a father's heart has been the means of 
leading some souls to Christ. 

This great bereavement, I need hardly say, dis- 
qualified me for the work which lay before me in 
the church. I begged my Presiding Elder, Rev. Dr. 
Brown, to release me for the balance of the year. 
This he thought, and perhaps wisely, would not be 
the best ; so I continued my imperfect work until 
the Conference, when I asked to be emoved. We 
were consequently sent, in 1863, to 3ordentown, 
where, during the two years, nearly two nundred 
were brought to Christ. 

The parsonage grounds at this place, which I 
called "Sylvan Green, " were so pleasant to me, — 
being nearly half an acre in extent, with gravelled 
walks bordered with various kinds of shrubbery, 
and sheltered from summer's heat by luxuriant 
foliage, — that I gave some little notoriety to it, as 
follows : — 

SYIyVAN GREEN IN JUNE. 

Worthy of song, O Sylvan Green ! 
Worthy ! for thou to me dost seem, 
Like landscapes in my childhood's dream, 

Beautiful. 

Thy green sward and thy hundred trees, 
The cedar, maple, hemlock, — these 
Are in the softening summer breeze 

Beautiful. 



FOOTPRINTS. 



The rose tree lifts its towering head, 
The myrtle seeks its lowly bed, 
The violets are by dewdrops fed — 

Beautiful. 

The box-bush spreads its circle wide, 
The cowslip nestles by its side, 
The lilies of the valley hide — 

Beautiful. 

The birds in early concert meet, 
The rising sun their carols greet, 
At eve their songs they still repeat — 

Beautiful. 

How pleasant are thy summer bowers, 
How tranquilizing are thy hours, 
How fragrant all thy bursting flowers— 

Beautiful. 

The noonday, with its sultry heat, 
Comes down upon the burning street; 
Thy shaded walks afford retreat — 

Beautiful. 

How fitting then that we should bring 
Meet tribute to our Heavenly King, 
And here with birds His praises sing — 

Beautiful. 

'Tis sunset, and the molten sky 
Unfolds its golden gateways wide ; 
The clouds in rifted glory lie — 

Beautiful. 

'Tis sunset, and the river's flow 
Comes with its murmurs soft and low ; 
Each wave is in a burnished glow — 

Beautiful. 



NEW BRUNSWICK AND TRENTON AGAIN. 117 



Moonlight is on thee, Sylvan Green, 
Silvery, sacred, soft, serene, 
And stars look down with golden gleam — 

Beautiful. 

O man of God, when this for thee 
Becomes a place of ministry, 
Thy word, on reaching here, will be — 

Beautiful.* 

In 1865 we were sent, by Bishop Ames, to Cen- 
tral Church, Trenton. Arriving upon the ground, 
we found there was no place to preach, no trustees, 
no stewards, no class leaders, no classes, no Sabbath 
school, no Bible or hymn-book, no church records, 
no place to live — nothing ! 

The Presiding Elder handed me a slip of paper, 
containing a list of names something over a hun- 
dred, saying, ' 1 That is your church.' ' We were to 
build a church, for which the lowest estimate I 
ever heard was $20,000, and it actually cost $45,000; 
and yet if you had sold everything these people 
had in the world, excepting one family, you could 
not have realized $10,000 from the sale. 

With this ability we were to build a represen- 
tative church in the capital of the State of New 
Jersey. The task of the Israelites in Egypt, of 
making bricks without straw, was scarcely more 
difficult ; and the prostration of body and soul, and 

* Also a parody, 1 Sylvan Green in January," omitted by the publishers. 



118 



FOOTPRINTS. 



sometimes even hope itself, was scarcely more per- 
fect in their case than in ours. Yet we toiled 
against wind, tide, hope, everything, until Thanks- 
giving Day of the second }^ear, when we called upon 
Bishop Ames to come and dedicate the basement of 
our new edifice. It was a proud day, and for the 
ability we had, I am free to say, one of the greatest 
successes of our life — the result of simple, united 
work of men, women, children, altogether and all 
the while. 

At the expiration of my second } 7 ear, worn to 
the last degree, both body and mind, I said to my 
presiding elder : ' ' 1 can endure this no longer ; I 
will have to move, if it is to the smallest appoint- 
ment in the New Jersey Conference." It had often 
been said to me, in familiar conversation, " There 
ought to be a shore district in our Conference work, 
taking from districts already existing that portion 
lying along the coast, say from New Brnnswick as 
far south as Manahawkin." I sighed at the recital, 
and said; "Alas for the man who should be its Pre- 
siding Elder." 

In 1867 the Conference was held at Keyport. 
The business proceeded as usual. When at its close 
Bishop James arose to read the appointments, the 
first announcement in the list was as follows : ' ' New 
Brunswick District — E. H. Stokes, Presiding Elder." 



NEW BRUNSWICK AND TRENTON AGAIN. 119 



For twenty-four hours after, a sicker man you never 
saw. I was too sick to smile, or talk, or weep. 
I just wanted to be let alone. At the expiration 
of this time, the terribleness of my feelings some- 
what subsided. I went to work on my district, 
and for four years enjoyed it as I have scarcely 
enjoyed any part of my ministerial life. 

It was heavy work and some inconvenience ; yet 
in all that time I never left my home, by day or 
night, in tempest or in calm, to fill my appoint- 
ments without an inspiration. 

The district was new, and prejudices against it, 
in and out of the Conference, had to be met and 
overcome; yet God gave prosperity. Sixteen new 
churches were built, the preachers worked like men 
of God, and we had thousands of souls as seals to 
our ministry. 

It was while Presiding Elder of the New Bruns- 
wick District that the Ocean Grove enterprise had 
its inception, with which I and other members of 
this class have had the most intimate and insepar- 
able connection. 

In 1 87 1 Bishop James assigned me to the over- 
sight of the Camden District, which I served four 
years, closing up my eight years of Presiding Elder 
in 1875, under Bishop Simpson. 

After these eight years thus spent, I feel con- 



120 



FOOTPRINTS. 



strained to say that whatever may be the differences 
of opinion concerning the modifications of the office 
in question, no one can occupy the position for a 
series of years — and thereby become more intimately 
acquainted with its workings and responsibilities — 
and not be fully persuaded, not only of its im- 
portance, but of its absolute necessity. With our 
present mode of itinerancy, we could do almost 
equally well without the Episcopacy as we could 
without the general oversight of the Presiding Elder. 
I say this from the deliberate convictions of my 
own mind, which have deepened from year to year. 

Probably no church has a more perfect organism 
than our own ; and this organism, worked by effi- 
cient men in the past, has brought us to our 
present elevated position, and will, if wisely manned 
in the future, bring us to still higher heights. 



OCEAN GROVE. 



121 



CHAPTER XL 

OCKAN GROVK. 

Sinck the close of my Presiding Eldership, by 
the request of our Association, and by the appoint- 
ment of the Bishop, I have had my work at Ocean 
Grove. 

It has been on this wise : When my work 
as a Presiding Elder was closing, in 1875, I said 
to our brethren of the Association, that as Pre- 
siding Elder I had given an amount of time 
and toil to Ocean Grove which as pastor I could 
not do. They said to me, ( ' It needs more ser- 
vice now than ever." I answered, "Yes, I know 
it; but as pastor I can not give it." They 
then said, "Will you take Ocean Grove for your 
work ? ' ' 

When this question was proposed, I had in my 
pocket an official invitation from the First Church 
in Millville to become their pastor for the following 
year ; but knowing the needs of Ocean Grove, I 
said to our executive committee, ' ' Notwithstanding 
this Millville call, if you request and the Bishop 
will appoint, in view of my relations to Ocean 



122 



FOOTPRINTS. 



Grove, I will give my whole time to it, in its 
great religious work. ' 9 

The Bishop did appoint me three years as sum- 
mer pastor, not of the church, but of the community. 
I was then appointed agent and President of Ocean 
Grove. 

In the spring of 1880, the Asbury Park 
members of Ocean Grove church entered into a 
separate organization in that place. This retire- 
ment of considerably over one hundred members 
left Ocean Grove weak and partially discouraged. 
They asked me to become the pastor. I was 
appointed, and served that church in connection 
with my Ocean Grove Association work. In the 
two years of my pastorate here the church more 
than doubled. 

In 1869 I was elected President of the Ocean 
Grove Camp Meeting Association, and have been 
re-elected every year since. 

I have thus rapidly sketched the history of my 
life and the thirty-nine years of my ministry. 

It is thirty-eight years this day since — young in 
years, without experience, with our ministerial charac- 
ters unformed — eighteen of us were received into 
the New Jersey Conference, and in which some of 
us have toiled unto this day. 

We have had a marvelous history. In thirty 



OCEAN GROVE. 



123 



years that we should lose but three from eighteen, 
Bishop James well said, c * It is seldom so large a 
class loses so few of its members in thirty years." 
But we now add to these three, three more: Herr, 
Vansant, and Sumerill. 



One by one our brethren slowly 
Pass beyond the bounds of time ; 

One by one, among the holy, 
Sing the victor's song sublime. 

One by one, soon we shall gather, 
Not as we have gathered here — 

Bowed and broken ; but the rather, 
In eternal youth appear. 

One by one our ranks are thinning, 
Thinning here, but swelling there ; 

One by one bright crowns are winning, 
Crowns they shall forever wear. 

Good-bye ! Hail ! eternal brothers, 
Tears and joys are ours to-day ; 

Some have gone, and lo ! the others 
Hasten on the shortening way. 



That so many of us are spared for considerably 
over a generation, with so much of natural vigor, 
is matter for profound congratulations. No longer 
young men, for autumnal frosts are on every brow, 
and yet, with the blessing of God, capable of doing 
work for the Master. 



124 



FOOTPRINTS. 



For all the past, the present, and prospects of 
the blessed future, let us be profoundly thankful ; 
and here vow, that whether life be longer or shorter, 
we will all strive to meet in heaven. 



Ocean Grovk, N. J., 
April 5, 1882* 



*Dr. Stokes had under consideration the completion of his life's 
history to his eightieth year. His esteemed friend and co-worker, Rev. 
Dr. Ballard, appends the closing chapter. 




A TRIBUTE). 



125 



CHAPTER XII. 

A TRIBUTE. 

The connection of Dr. Ell wood H. Stokes with 
Ocean Grove was one of those stirprises of Provi- 
dence which had so largely intermingled themselves 
with his previous career. He successfully filled all 
the advanced positions to which he was called, and 
studied the possibilities existing in them. The cul- 
mination of these positions was found in Ocean 
Grove, where all his previous knowledge and train- 
ing were brought into fullest exercise in shaping 
the course which has led it where it marks its 
lines to-day, and which makes his history a history 
of Ocean Grove. 

In earlier days the camp meeting system of 
New Jersey Methodism had a large influence in 
moulding the forms of its worship. It brought 
together the people of its scattered hamlets and 
widely separated churches in the sympathy of per- 
sonal intercourse and religion. Though its discom- 
forts were many, they were not far below the level 
of their homes. But at this time there had come 
better days to them. Increased prosperity had en- 



126 



FOOTPRINTS. 



abled them to add luxuries to necessities, and to 
place churches nearer together. The earlier forms of 
the camps were no longer acceptable, and the atten- 
dance gradually declined. Their sustaining became 
more and more a matter of loyalty to traditional 
Methodism than an expectation of numerous con- 
versions. For a while their adoption of belief in 
the value of an open profession of the higher 
realizations of spiritual religion maintained their 
popularity; but as the churches grew more numer- 
ous, both the conversions and sanctifications were 
mostly accomplished there. 

With this increasing prosperity of the people, a 
system of vacations had come into favor, reaching 
longer periods of time than were given to the 
camps. This included mountain and shore, and 
the associations, however moral, were not conducive 
to growth in religion. 

The camps were still held upon the olden lines, 
but had deteriorated, and were made largely occa- 
sions of pleasure to the youngev people. If held 
at all, it seemed necessary to include a Sunday, 
and that added greatly to the desecration of the 
day. The Presiding Elders did their best to les- 
sen the evil by holding them where the public 
conveyances did not stop ; but their usefulness still 
steadily declined, and Dr. Stokes with the other 



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Presiding Elders consulted as to asking from the 
Annual Conference a pronunciation against them. 
These discussions evolved the conception of a wider 
system which would combine the recuperative ad- 
vantages of a vacation with continuous exercises of 
religion. This would require the ownership of 
suitable grounds in place of those occupied by suf- 
ferance ; and police powers through which the laws 
of chartered ownership could be enforced, and the 
old plans of Jewish festivals be revived under the 
dispensation of Jesus. Dr. Stokes's district largely 
outlined the sea, and in connection with Rev. W. B. 
Osborn and others, he applied himself to ascertain 
whether these conditions could be met upon it. 
Brother Osborn was a pastor near by, and an 
ardent believer in the efficacy of the system. He 
became a leading spirit and first superintendent of 
the enterprise which resulted in Ocean Grove. Dr. 
Stokes, by a unanimous vote, became at once the 
President, this vote being repeated annually up to 
the last election held during the time he remained 
upon the earth. 

He entered upon his work with the employment 
of the same characteristics which had so success- 
fully distinguished him in the active ministry of 
the churches. He understood the forces by which 
collateral facts and men could be attracted to a 



128 



FOOTPRINTS. 



central conception, and placed in lines of trained 
and disciplined obedience. All the deep knowledge 
of God, attained through membership, pastorate, and 
eldership in the churches ; all the legislative train- 
ing of a General Conference ; all interpreted with a 
special experience of realized holiness of heart, — 
show his impression upon the origin and pathway 
of Ocean Grove. 

The first inflexible, uncompromising principle — 
inflexible in the general plan, and uncompromising 
in every detail, which was so interwoven with the 
union of his personality and the Grove that they 
stood or fell together — was this one of holiness. 
It stood out in the charter, it was read promi- 
nently in the mottoes which fringed the temples 
of worship, it guided his choice of ministering 
preachers, it was the staple of his selections from 
the hymns and Holy Scripture for special wor- 
ship, it tinged all his poems with the purity of 
its whiteness, and pervaded his conversation and 
experience. Many saints of God will be able to 
recall occasions when, under the realizings of this 
purest association with the Holy Spirit, his eyes 
would glow with a supernal rapture, which others 
could feel as the presence of the Spirit. Upon 
his face the glow would rest as an illumination, 
and his whole bearing would be that of a soul 



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129 



already worshipping at the throne of the Upper 
Temple. • 

The two great facts which have stood at the 
foundation of Ocean Grove as a permanent institu- 
tion have been this doctrine so broadly outlined, 
and the belief of the people in the President who 
was entrusted with its development. 

Following spiritual holiness — as typified outwardly 
in the baptism by water, and the infiltration of the 
Spirit as an inward well springing up from ever- 
lasting life — was the question of water as applied 
outwardly and inwardly to physical purity. The 
limitless ocean, with its wonderful typification of 
the Atonement in transforming pollution into clean- 
ness, met the requisition outwardly; and the water- 
springs below the surface ground, filtered through 
the sands from the rains, met it as fully inwardly. 
But with the advance of population came the cer- 
tainty of retrogation in this surface supply. The 
same sands which filtered the rains carried with 
that filtration the surface-soiling to nature's reser- 
voir below. Plans were devised to lessen this by 
impervious vaults, which simply decreased without 
curing the evil. The masses of the people, who 
came in increasing thousands with every year, de- 
manded something more than all that could be done 
with these, and the greatest temporal problem ever 



130 



FOOTPRINTS. 



confronting Ocean Grove was before Dr. Stokes 
and his associates, asking and demanding solution. 
When that time came, he was ready with his 
answer. His power of forecast was beyond the 
average, and an exigency rarely found him unpre- 
pared; the thing needed to be done appeared as in 
its natural order. In looking at this question, long 
before its open discussion, in conversation with his 
associates, he had settled clearly in his mind that 
there was plenty of water deeper down in the earth, 
beyond the reach of pollution, which only needed 
seeking to be found. He had tested the sea as 
the natural receptacle prepared by God for earth's 
purification. 

In connection with his associates he pondered the 
union of these two great ideas, until from them 
arose that wonderful system of Artesian wells — from 
twenty to thirty in number, penetrating the earth's 
bosom at varying distances of from four to twelve 
hundred feet — as securing purity of water in plenti- 
ful supply for all the years to come ; and that 
equally wonderful system of street mains, converg- 
ing to a common center, which should carry out 
these impurities of every character five hundred feet 
into the sea. 

After the conception of the project came the 
consideration of the cost. It was apparently impos- 



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131 



sible to do without them, and equally dangerous to 
press them beyond the resources of credit natural 
to the Association. Here especially his many-sided 
nature came to the rescue. He called about him 
the best experts to adjust the possibilities and 
arrangements of the plan, and the best financial 
wisdom to estimate the cost. With his associates 
he forecast the resources, and made it clear that 
the scheme was possible. He held steadily to that 
decision against all opposition, until the opportune 
moment when his colleagues were willing to accept 
it, and the decision passed into an actual fact. 

This same trait of patient persistence was still 
further developed in the after progress of this sup- 
ply of water. More water was needed than the 
wells apparently could contribute. It was not prob- 
able that the water area could profitably bear an 
increase of wells. The electric and water committee, 
Messrs. Andrus, DeHaven and Preston, believed 
that the developments of science could meet the 
need with air compressors. Again in advance of 
his colleagues, Dr. Stokes held the idea until it 
was accepted and put into operation. 

The same thing was true in the extension of 
sewer pipes into the sea. It was difficult to induce 
men whose co-operation was indispensable to feel 
that it was of any use to attempt the carrying of 



132 



FOOTPRINTS. 



sewerage five hundred feet out into the sea ; but as 
before, he waited until the Association came even 
with his belief, and the system was inaugurated. 
Like most new enterprises, there were mistakes in 
the beginning, and the outlet was made of wood 
which in a few months was eaten through by the 
toredo worm. But the failure discovered to him 
the necessity of iron, by w T hich it was replaced, and 
under the ridicule of many, who rejoiced at the 
apparent failure, he calmly waited again until the 
general common sense accepted his facts ; and when, 
years after, the proposal was made to send the 
pipes twelve hundred feet out into the sea, he 
waited again until unbelief became belief, and this 
great work was placed in the position it occupies 
to-day. 

The lighting of the Grove was studied in the 
same soundness of forecast as the other enterprises. 
The little lanterns hung by tents, upon the trees, 
were sufficient for the beginning, but only for the 
beginning. Kerosene lamps of varied construction, 
placed upon aboriginal poles, here and there light- 
ing up the darkness, followed them, and were 
extended w r ith the increase of cottages and tents. 
But as the population advanced, this w 7 ould no 
longer answer. The introduction of gas was the 
next natural solution ; but that apparently involved 



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133 



an outside company, and imperilled the seclusion 
so .essential to the institution. Electricity was writ- 
ing its own alphabet in letters of light, and to Dr. 
Stokes's mind the time would not be long when 
its advance would explain, in its own language, the 
real solution of all questions of light. Gas seemed 
far on its way to the natural limit of its power, 
while electricity was only in its beginning. In the 
forecast which concluded this he waited again until 
the brethren saw as he saw; then electricity be- 
came the established order of lighting the Grove, 
and is its own attestation of the wisdom of the 
President. 

The natural trend of his mind was in the direc- 
tion of the supernatural. His inheritance from 
ancestral beliefs might partly account for this, but 
the juxtapose of his powers, bodily and mental, in- 
clined him in that way. In a conversation a few 
days before his death he said : ' ' If I had not be- 
come the president of Ocean Grove, I should prob- 
ably have been more of a Mystic/ ' Books like 
Madam Guy on possessed for him a peculiar charm. 
Through them he could perceive the pathways where 
what was natural led into the spiritual, and his 
purity of soul was so assured that he did not fear 
to walk in them. Intervening seclusions from the 
busy whirl and noise of life were essential to him. 



134 



FOOTPRINTS. 



After a long stress of the unremitting duties attach- 
ing to his position, his soul demanded the repose 
of a silence which felt the truth of what elsewhere 
seemed but dreams. This was usually found among 
the hills and valleys of our own land. After the 
exhaustion of a season, accompanied by the be- 
loved companion of his life, from whom he was 
never willingly separated for a day, he would seek 
some secluded spot in such localities and rest. In 
this rest — face to face with nature, — and face to 
face with God, some of those wonderful descrip- 
tions in which human words seemed instinct with 
supernal life, found their outlet in poetry, whose 
forms of expression commanded the written appre- 
ciation of men like ' ' Whittier, 9 9 and have their 
right to live on through the coming ages along with 
theirs. He was so sensitive to the silent language 
of nature, that the writer has seen his eyes fill 
with tears as he stood among the awe-inspiring 
solemnities of Watkins Glen, — and glow with rap- 
ture over the changing splendors of autumn leaves. 

But he was too truly a poet to find his imageries 
only in the mountains and their valleys. His 
natural resources were as fully developed here as 
anywhere. The rivers talked to him so that he 
could tell men what they said. The common deeds 
of work-day life spoke their higher meaning from 



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135 



his pen. When a few months were forced from the 
continuous labor of the years for the relief of 
foreign travel, the storied wonders of the lands be- 
yond the seas so voiced themselves to him that he 
was able to repeat it in newer forms. As he moved 
among the cloudless skies of Italy his language 
caught their sunlight. Amid the majesties of Switz- 
erland it was interpenetrated with their grandeur. 
His poetry found inspiration in the mighty thoughts 
and facts of Christ's religion, even when he beheld 
them overlaid with the tawdry tinsel of Romish 
observances in the Eternal City. The ocean was 
unfailing in its inspiration. Every glint of the 
sunlight upon the waves was to him a fresh reve- 
lation, and every revelation a new nomenclature, 
with which to express it. 

All his poems found their starting point where 
he gave the ceremonial to Ocean Grove — "In the 
beginning God !" All his words as well as works 
began and ended there. Without this fundamental 
truth of God's spirit, these poems, which are now 
among the integrals of its history, would never 
have been written. The spiritual songs which are 
now accepted as exponents of the religious senti- 
ment of the age, would not have become a part of 
its household melody. "Hover O'er Me, Holy 
Spirit, " could only have been fitted so thoroughly 



136 



FOOTPRINTS. 



for the tenderness of worship by its own breath- 
ings into the poet's words. Ocean Grove could 
never have become what it is, could never have 
so drawn to itself the refinements of religious so- 
ciety and worship if Ellwood Stokes had not been 
a poet and possessed the ability to impress him- 
self upon it. Every true poet rules whatever is 
best in his age, on the lines where he travels, 
and his reign lives after him. In Ocean Grove, 
the poetic nature of its departed head, speaking 
through his written words, will mould the attrac- 
tions of the place into shapes of beauty and purity, 
even as they do to-day, for all the days to come. 

The same intuitive prescience of coming events 
attended the entire change in the original policy of 
Ocean Grove for seclusion from the outside world. 
The entrances were sedulously guarded from Sabbath 
intrusion. So thorough was this policy a line of 
conduct to him, that passes were issued for simply 
personal admission. If the conditions had remained 
the same, so also would the seclusions. But, in- 
stead of twenty-six men and their families desiring 
an Ocean Grove, it was found that twenty-six 
hundred wanted the same thing. Enlarged accom- 
modations became a necessity. The people came 
from New York, Philadelphia and Baltimore, and 
indeed from almost every part of the Union and 



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137 



the Canadas, and it was an apparent duty to make 
their pathway easier. When this time came the 
president had foreseen and was prepared for it. 
Under his judgment, Ocean Grove joined Mr. Brad- 
ley, and together led in constructing a turnpike. 
This was soon followed by railways in either direc- 
tion. But in all this advance his foresight never 
lost the view of seclusion from indiscriminate travel, 
and special seclusion in the sacredness of the Sab- 
bath. In the arrangements for travel stages were 
not permitted to enter the grounds on Sundays, nor 
were carriages permitted to be driven through them 
on that day. So firm was his position that, though 
he was a personal friend, he declined to admit the 
carriage of the President of the United States upon 
that day, and so loyal was President Grant to the 
institution that he so arranged that the rule should 
not be broken. The contracts with railway com- 
panies were so skillfully made that official promises 
mostly guaranteed by official interests, were so con- 
structed that the trains should not stop on Sundays, 
either to let off or take on passengers. Temporal 
offers of considerable magnitude were sometimes 
made for the remission of this rule, but he stood 
like a rock against them, and openly announced 
that the opening of Sunday travel in these forms 
would both close all Sabbath public services, and 



138 



FOOTPRINTS. 



all outside admissions to the Grove upon any pre- 
text whatsoever. These have been maintained ever 
since, and it was among his pleasant thoughts in 
his contemplations of the future, that in the men 
who took the places of departed members, the safe- 
guards now thrown around the sanctity of the 
Ocean Grove Sabbath were reasonably assured. 

He was a man who had impersonated all his 
traits of character in the churches he had served, 
and he repeated that impersonation with all their 
larger development in the enterprise to which he 
had linked his life. All the varied values of his 
capital were fully employed with each other in 
producing a general prosperity. One of these 
prominent traits was a natural reverence for 
womanhood which had been cultivated through the 
best associations which his place in society as a 
Godly minister had given him. He came from a 
fraternity which recognized woman as entitled to 
a higher place than society gave her. The one 
who gave him birth was to him a sacred model, 
and the one who walked by his side in life did 
not lesson his estimation. He was delicately pure 
in every perceptive of them, and as delicately pure 
in his expressions regarding them. The force of a 
godly consecrated womanhood was early recognized 
by him in the great interests to which the Associa- 



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139 



tion was pledged. Their wonderful power of grasp- 
ing and executing details where men would fail 
was fully appreciated by him, as was also their 
powers to originate the ideas from which the plans 
must spring. His own gentle nature affiliated with 
the ladies who came to the Grove, and naturally 
drew them into its work. While he did not believe 
in the masterhood of women, he did believe in their 
equality with men on an equality only limited by 
their circumstances. He felt warmly for motherhood, 
and an annual Mothers' Meeting was established, 
developing into a wider plan for the encourage- 
ment of all women. He sympathized with them 
in their missionary effort to send the Gospel to the 
women of heathendom, a mission institution, in 
which his devoted wife was deeply interested, and 
made its work a part of the ' ' season. ' ' His sym- 
pathies went out strongly to the struggling min- 
isters and evangelistic women who were carrying 
the Gospel with the advance of the western tide 
of population, and the Home Missionary Society of 
the women, with their brigade of Deaconesses, 
were adopted into this family. He recognized the 
bright aestheticism of youthful womanhood, and its 
organization of fresh young girlhood received his 
blessing. He was in touch with their love of 
flowers and the flower mission, bearing God's in- 



140 



FOOTPRINTS. 



animate angels to the sick and sorrowful, was 
joined to the rest. Womanhood in Temperance — 
the most efficient factor in the cause — received a 
wide space in his work, the more especially as its 
principles of platform were usually his own. He 
placed their force in all the meetings — Auditorium, 
Temple, Tabernacle, Thornleys, Misual, Exper- 
ience — and made them for all the future essential 
stones in whatever extensions may come. 

One of the noblest elements of his character, 
which has impressed itself upon the family life of 
Ocean Grove, was the Gospel lines upon which he 
ordered his household. There was a tenderness in 
his demeanor toward his wife always suggestive of 
early marriage, where manliness forbade incon- 
gruity. He was one of the very few men whose 
bearing could dignify the caressive language of that 
period with the genial gravity of four-score years. 
Mrs. Stokes is a lady of retiring disposition and 
habits, who sought her truest pleasure in her own 
quiet effacement in his favor whenever it involved 
his prominence. Her life dismissed all minor ob- 
jects and centered itself upon the rightful public 
acknowledgement of the man w r hom she gloried to 
call her husband. She entered w 7 armly into all 
the plans proposed by him, and placed her loving 
companionship beside all his thoughtful analysis of 



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141 



every one. She won from his inmost appreciation 
the scriptural designation, that "The heart of her 
husband doth safely trust in her." In the inter- 
vals which accorded the repose intervening between 
the exhaustive labors of the season and his re- 
assumption of his work, she was always with him, 
with her careful management securing his seclu- 
sion. She ordered his household aright, and with 
a graceful neatness that satisfied his tastes and left 
him at liberty to feel that at any hour the most 
fastidious person would find adverse criticism im- 
possible. She watched over his health with a 
vigilance beyond his own. Nobly was her devo- 
tion repaid by him. In his care for her he illus- 
trated the saying of Shakespeare's Hamlet, "The 
very winds of heaven should not visit her too 
roughly." He exercised the same vigilance over 
her needs whether it was in crossing a muddy 
street or the preparations necessary for the months 
of travel. He gratified her love of retirement where 
it did not lessen the honor in which she was de- 
servedly held, but placed a gentle insistance where 
such occasions demanded it. The Woman's Foreign 
Missionary interests asked her acceptance of its presi- 
dency, and he constrained her to accept it. In 
other enterprises he did not interfere in her choice 
of subordinate positions, but so much honor here 



142 



FOOTPRINTS. 



was appropriate, and so he constrained her to 
accept. On his return from the one absence of 
months in European travel, his most prominent 
thought amidst the forms which greeted his return 
was the woman he delighted to honor. When 
receptions or assemblages were expressing their 
appreciation of his work, he would insist that her 
name rightfully was entitled to its share. He 
openly proclaimed his acceptance of her as God's 
good gift to him in the companionship of his life 
and his helpmate in the great work to which God 
had called him. It is not wonderful that this lady, 
so loving and so beloved, has secluded herself in 
the silence of her sorrow, where she may commune 
more perfectly with the precious memories of the 
husband who was the chief est joy of life to her. 
The love of her associates of the past has followed 
her, their prayers have fragranced the letters which 
they send to her, but for her the brightness of 
earth is over, and she is sitting now in its even- 
tide watching for the crimson glory to filter through 
and reveal the ascending pathway at whose height 
she may clasp again the heart so long her own. 

The influence of this family life upon the people 
of the Grove has been widely felt, upon the same 
line as the Queen of England, by her example, has 
so greatly contributed to making an English home 



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143 



a synonym of purity and blessing. The people 
naturally look to their chieftan for the guidance of 
their lives, and in this life, where there was never 
a break in its harmony, there has been an impression 
which will remain enstamped, we trust, forever. 

The same warmth of feeling distributed itself over 
the lives of his kindred according to the flesh. 
Among these was Wistar, the son of his brother, 
whom he took to his heart as if his own blood ran 
in his veins, and his affection for him was only 
paralleled by that relation. He said of him to the 
writer: " He is like a son to me. I do not know 
what I should do without him." He was his amanu- 
ensis, his counsellor in such matters as befitted a son 
to a father, his one reliance in the exigencies of 
travel, his heart's depository for secret sorrow, 
and his perfect trust in everything committed to 
his care. The name of Wistar Stokes became a 
household word, and will so remain among the 
memories of Ocean Grove. 

Men and women who served in his household 
were never made to feel any inferiority. They 
were equal in Christ Jesus and allowed to realize 
it. The workmen looked upon him as their friend. 
His graceful dignity was felt in any gathering of 
people of which he formed a part. His love for 
children was phenomenal, and was cultivated along 



144 



FOOTPRINTS. 



all the lines of his life. He loved them, and they 
always knew it and loved him in return. He 
could not find it in his heart to speak sternly to a 
child. A quaint sense of humor ran all through his 
association with them and won their hearts at 
once. The boys remember him, and the girls re- 
member him, and much of their after life will be 
insensibly affected by their intercourse with Dr. 
Stokes. 

A sentiment is often expressed by merchants that 
ministers are not adapted to business. However 
much this may or ma}' not be true in general, it 
was not true of Dr. Stokes. The most valuable of 
the plans, whose developement has made the Grove, 
originated with him, while few of those prepared 
by others left his observation without improvement. 
His advice was in everything which was planned, 
and his hand touched ever}' detail of its execu- 
tion. His suggestions impressed wisely every ad- 
vance of sewer, water, light and street, while his 
eye noted every necessity of construction. His shap- 
ing of the best work with the simplest economy re- 
ceived the highest approval of superior business 
men. The outcome of the primeval accommoda- 
tions for worship, rising from step to step in har- 
mony with the resources, to the great Auditorium, 
which will rightly stand as the great memorial 



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145 



which shall make sacred his name for all the 
future, was made more largely from his business 
perceptions than from those of any others. These 
perceptions took in all the grandeur of the enter- 
prise, and they also arranged the wonderful con- 
struction in harmony with a question of finances 
whose calculations must be based upon what might 
prove to be the popular generosity of the people. 
There is no business enterprise of the day whose 
success has been honestly achieved, which more 
than parallels the business success of the man who 
conducted that Auditorium from its conception to 
its completion, when the multitudes, at his plead- 
ing, poured their money into this treasury of the 
Lord. 

With the smallest amount of money possible he 
utilized his exquisite taste in adornment, and made 
the desert sands around the Auditorium blossom 
with the roses. His ' ' Beach Meetings, ' ' which 
were so constructed that all their crowding thou- 
sands could take part in the worship, were of tri- 
fling cost and repaid it a thousand fold in the people 
attracted by them. His expenditures for popular 
songs and singers, and music, brought back their 
hundred per cent, in the collections. He employed 
the faculty so largely used by railway presidents, 
in surrounding themselves with the best assistance 



146 



FOOTPRINTS. 



possible to be obtained. He blended the best ad- 
justments practiced by the world with those found 
best in the conduct of the churches, and evolved 
a result which led Treasurer Andrus to say : 
' ' We never knew how great a man we had among 
us till he was gone.'' 

He did not so esteem himself in this regard. He 
once took the writer to task for saying in public 
that he was a great man ; that he was greater than 
other men. He said that all he had accomplished 
for Ocean Grove would have been impossible but 
for other men, who had done as much as he ; 
oblivious of the fact that it requires a man greater 
than others to induce the others to do the things 
which cannot be done without them. 

His modest estimate of himself may be under- 
stood from his answer to a congratulatory letter 
from Rev. B. B. Loomis, D. D., on his passing 
the four-score mile-stone of his way : 

Mount Pocono, October 10, 1895. 

My dear Dr. Loomis : — Your very kind letter of con- 
gratulation was duly received. I thank you very much. To 
have lived eighty years is a favor granted to but compara- 
tively few, and should call forth sentiments of profoundest 
gratitude. 

From the Pocono summits, 2,400 feet above the water, I 
beheld the sun rise this morning seemingly never so bright, 



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147 



although since my birth it has risen 29,200 times, and each 
of these rises has brought new mercies to my soul. 

It seems to me as if it would take eternity to praise the 
giver of them all. 

For sixty-two years a member of the Methodist Episcopal 
Church, during which time she has not only borne with my 
imperfections, but with large and liberal hand bestowed upon 
me honors which have surprised me at every step. 

Anything I may have been permitted to do in all these 
years I lay humbly at the Master's feet and beg Him to 
accept. All the future I place in His hands, to do with me 
as seems best to Him. To me it is the highest privilege to 
live and do all I can to promote His cause. My health is 
good, my faculties unimpaired and my prospects bright for 
heaven. All praise to His holy name. The Ocean Grove 
Record^ of this week, will contain my eightieth anniversary 
birthday poem. It was written only a few days before, but 
bears the date of my birth, not about my birth, but of "the 
great Redeemer. ' 5 Please read, and if it is worthy give me 
your thoughts about it. We both send our regards. 

Very sincerely yours, 

E. H. STOKES. 

His public addresses were phenomenal in their 
adaptation and beauty, and awakened enthusiasm 
rarely accorded to such occasions. They were al- 
ways impromptu, but impromptu from thoughts 
hidden away before and sunlighted for the occa- 
sion. He was equally at home in welcoming the 
President of the United States or the children of 
a Sunday school assembly, and both with language 
fitted to the time. He could speak appropriately 



148 



FOOTPRINTS. 



to the Grand Army of the Republic, or to the re- 
constructed representatives of the Southern con- 
federacy ; to the delegates of the highest ecclesias- 
tical bodies of the world, and the Freedmen's 
Churches of the South, and to all these add a 
grace and dignity which quadrupled their value to 
the recipients of welcome. It has been said of 
him that in variety of expression, by which all 
classes were welcomed, and by which the same 
institutions were addressed in each recurring year, 
he had no known equal. 

His personal appearance in the pulpit was both 
attractive and imposing. His abundant coal black 
hair, over a broad and open brow, impressed at 
once. His large, brown e}^es, alight with poetic 
religious fire, looked into those of his audience, 
and by their own magnetism drew the attention of 
the people to himself and through himself to his 
message. His cheeks aglow with nature's purest 
coloring, suggested the freshness of a nature whose 
thoughts had been just gathered from the garden 
of the Lord. His bearing was the outward imper- 
sonation of inward dignity. His oratory was the 
natural grace without the arts so often relied upon 
to make it effective. His full, melodious voice filled 
all the octaves natural to the subject, and carried 
with it the conviction already existing in the 



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speaker. His thoughts, of themselves, were always 
forcible and commanded attention. The words in 
which he clothed them made them both clear and 
interesting, and often rose into the majesty of 
poetry. A stream of gentle humor ran through all 
the lines of his discourse, appearing here and there 
in unexpected places, which relieved the languor 
attendant upon the inactivity of body, and excited 
the minds of the hearers into higher activity. In 
all the addresses, with all their varied character- 
istics, he never forgot that the prominent object 
of every gathering of the people was in some way 
or other to glorify God. His nature was essentially 
a warm and sympathetic one, and impressed itself 
strongly upon all around him. 

When sickness was darkening life's enjoyments 
among the people, he accounted it a privilege to 
kneel beside the couch of pain. Where infirmity 
fastened itself upon the failing powers of the body, 
he was ready with his ever-helping hand. Where 
poverty chilled the bodies, and despair the souls 
of life's unfortunates, his unknown benefactions 
and kindly counsel gave relief. When the angel 
of death walked through the household of Senator 
Hays at the Grove, and bore away his precious 
babe, his own tenderness of soul sat down with 
the parents at the couch upon which the lovely 



150 



FOOTPRINTS. 



body lay. Often the writer has seen him sad and 
sorrowful over troubles he could not relieve, and 
correspondingly joyful whenever relief was in his 
power. 

His physique indicated length of life. His form 
was moulded for a century. His ancestry sent 
iown to him through generations of moderation a 
constitution amply competent to resist disorder. 
His early living and training strengthened his 
vitalit}^. His freedom from youthful dissipation 
consolidated it. His careful regularity of food 
and sleep conserved it. His methodical habits left 
it undisturbed. His impulsive temperament was 
disciplined to the avoidance of excess. His facul- 
ties of body, mind and spirit were always equi- 
poised and exercised together. Up to his seventy- 
fifth year his health apparently was perfect. Its 
vigor cast aside the approaches of disease as a man 
lays off a garment, while his attention to the laws 
of health prevented their grasp. But at the period 
to which I alluded the fearful epidemic of grip, 
which spared neither sex nor age, feebleness nor 
vigor, appeared in our land and laid its hand upon 
him. But it did not seem possible to him that 
what he supposed to be a temporary cold could 
result in permanent illness, or that serious illness 
of any kind could fasten itself upon him. It was 



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not in the law of his nature to succumb, and he, 
while bearing the prostrating lassitude induced by 
the disorder, bore also the steady burden of his 
labors. It was impossible for him to listen to ad- 
vice for cessation of work while he did not feel 
his natural force to be abated. He hoped to over- 
throw the disease by persistent activity of labor, 
which persistent activity alas ! was the unconquer- 
able agent by which its hold was made secure. 
During these years of illness he permitted no ces- 
sation of his labors. Thoughtful attention was given 
to the painting of the cottages and Auditorium, 
the roofing of the Temple, the adornment of the 
grounds in tasteful forms, the details of the differ- 
ent departments, the examination of the various 
expenses, the close attention to the great interests 
involved in the twelve hundred feet of sewer pipe 
extending into the ocean, the selection of preachers 
who should speak the words of Jesus from the 
platform — and especially the new Auditorium — an 
object to which he had devoted his most patient 
thought and effort for the few past years. He 
had come to understand it as the last great object 
which his Master expected him to accomplish be- 
fore he left the world, and which, to use his own 
strong words, he would be blamed before the 
Iyord if he left the world without its being done. 



152 



FOOTPRINTS. 



He pressed this steadily upon his associates, pressed 
it against strong opposition from some of the most 
trusted advisers of his life, forced aside from it 
again and again; vigorously battling against the 
discouragements arising in this way, when his own 
heart was fainting ; writing beautiful poems in the 
intervals of business pressure, only succumbing once 
under an attack of eresypelas for a few days of a 
season when his physican assured him that expo- 
sure would be fatal. 

He refused to accept the assistance which to 
others was an obvious necessity, because it would 
be a confession to himself that his forces were 
weakening, and would afford him an excuse for 
indolence. 

He persevered the same when the overworked 
vitality sunk back into premonitions of paralysis. 

He did not cease when the annual Southern recu- 
perative trip afforded the merest temporary relief, 
but made an exhaustive one to the Pacific. He 
worked on when the thickening walls of the blood 
vessels told him absolutely that a want of adapta- 
tion to their condition in the quiet exercise which 
must not be hastened or retarded, meant immediate 
death ; on until his patient, toiling heart could no 
longer obey his will, and he lay down a victor to 
the last, to die. 



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153 



For several days previous to the closing hour he 
had only been partially conscious. None but his 
physicians and immediate attendants were permitted 
to see him until on Friday morning, July 16th, the 
end was evidently so near that such members of the 
Association as were immediately accessible were with 
his physicians, invited to behold his departure. 
There were present of these Revs. George Hughes, 
A. Wallace, G. W. Evans and A. E. Ballard, with 
Messrs. J. E. Andrus, T. J. Preston, A. H. DeHaven, 
J. Iy. Hays, S. M. Myers. Bishop Fitzgerald was 
also among them, and at the request of the mem- 
bers, presented his case before the I<ord, and with 
the rest, amid tears and sobs and praises, watched 
the progress to the world beyond. 

He said to Rev. Mr. Daniels, "I know you all. ,, 
And when his Conference classmate and intimate 
friend, the vice-president, asked if all was well, he 
answered with the pressure of his hand, which was 
the last until he found the use of words again in 
the announcement of his presence to his L,ord above. 

Among his last expressions of religious experi- 
ence was a remark to Dr. Alday that he had held 
all his work before the Lord, and if it were to do 
over again, he should probably do about the same. 
When nearing the end, he said to the same dear 
friend, "I hardly understand myself — I have no 



154 



FOOTPRINTS. 



anxiety — I do not even feel the need of prayer"; 
and he accepted the answering suggestion that his 
work was done, and now God took all the care 
upon Himself. 

Upon the announcement of his death, the mem- 
bers of the Association who were upon the grounds 
met, at the request of the Vice-President, in the 
reception room of the Auditorium, and arranged a 
programme of the funeral ceremonies for Monday, 
July 19th, at two p. m. A committee of arrange- 
ments was appointed, who reported, both for the 
family and Association, that the service would be 
in the order of the ritual of the Methodist Epis- 
copal Church. Invitations were sent to the members 
of the official boards of Asbury Park, as also its 
clergymen, and to all the members of the New 
Jersey Annual Conference, with such others as the 
propriety of the circumstances might dictate. 

A special committee reported the following reso- 
lutions, which were adopted and ordered sent to 
the press and family. 

Whereas it has pleased Almighty God, in a wisdom which 
is beyond our comprehension, to remove from us our beloved 
President and Pastor, Rev. K. H. Stokes, therefore 

Resolved, I. — That in the decease of Rev. Bllwood H. 
Stokes, D. D., LL. D., the first and only President of the 
Ocean Grove Camp Meeting Association of the Methodist 



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155 



Bpiscopal Church, we have sustained a loss which to human 
foresight seems irreparable: 

" Resolved, II. — That his eminent abilities, cultured by- 
continuous application to the duties of his offices of President 
and Pastor ; his impressive personal presence, always inspiring 
respect ; his courteous and genial manner, illustrative of large 
kindness of heart ; his patient and generous nature, ever more 
considerate of others than himself ; his wise administration of 
business, through which our phenomenal success has largely- 
been attained ; — all crowned with the fulness of a spirituality 
which shone transparently through the deeds of his daily 
life ; — entitle him to a record rarely accorded to men in any 
position : 

' 'Resolved, III. — That in a sorrow which has no expres- 
sion in words, we feel deeply grateful that for nearly twenty- 
eight years he has been permitted to exercise among us the 
duties and privileges appertaining to his high office. That 
we find in the example of his life, and the peaceful trust of 
his death, a powerful incentive to follow him, as he followed 
Christ ; so that when we too shall be called away from time, 
we may enjoy his fellowship again in the world where his 
Divine Master has said to him, * Come up Higher. ' 

1 1 That we tender to his bereaved widow, who for over fifty 
years has been the beloved companion of his life, and to the 
other members of his family, our deepest sympathy in their 
sorrow, and pray the God he loved and served to be their 
God for ever and ever." 

A. K. Ballard, 
J. N. Alday, 
J. R. Daniels, 

Committee. 

The committee appointed for special pall-bearers: 
Messrs. John E. Andus and A. H. DeHaven, Hon. 
James L,. Hays, Revs. J. R. Vankirk, A. Wallace and 



156 



FOOTPRINTS, 



Wm. Franklin. Honorary pall-bearers : Hon. James 
A. Bradley, Messrs, Geo. L. Atkins, Theo. Oves and 
N. E. Buchanon from Asbury Park ; General Jas. F. 
Rusling, Messrs. John H. Dey, A. C. Fields and 
Johnson Taylor from citizens of Ocean Grove; Hon. 
W. H. Skirm, Messrs. S. M. Myers, T. M. Dickey, 
T. J. Preston and E. Hawthorn, Revs. George 
Hughes, I. Simmons, W. H. Wardell, Thomas Han- 
Ion, C. H. Yatman and J. T. Tucker from the Ocean 
Grove Association. Messrs. Kennard Chandler, Wm. 
Beegle, C. C. Clayton and D. D. Peak were appointed 
bearers at large. 

The carriers were selected from the employees of 
the Association, and consisted of Messrs. Lewis 
Rainier, John Vancleaf, Wm. Strickland, Rue Apple- 
gate, Walter Franklin and E. C. Turner. 

The body lay in state from Monday, 6 p. m., 
until Tuesday, 6 A. m. Its guard of honor were 
Revs. J. H. Alday, J. R. Daniels, R. J. Andrews, 
J. R. Vankirk, W. H. Wardell and G. W. Evans, 
Gen. J. F. Rusling, Col. J. S. Yard, Messrs. J. E. 
Andrus, E. T. Eovatt, T. J. Preston, A. H. De 
Haven, L. Rainier, N. E. Buchanon, H. B. Ayers 
and W. H. Hamilton. 

Arrangements were made for properly seating the 
people, and Rev. J. R. Daniels appointed to super- 
intend the leave-taking of the people ; also for a 



A TRIBUTE. 



157 



special palace car, in which to convey the family 
and friends to the cemetery at Haddonfield, where 
the final services would be held and the body be 
interred. 

The exercises at the Auditorium were opened by 
an organ voluntary requiem, followed by " Hover 
o'er me, Holy Spirit," a hymn of Dr. Stokes's own 
composing, arranged by Dr. Daniels ; then a prayer 
by Dr. Hanlon, followed by another hymn composed 
by the deceased, entitled "One by One"; a Scrip- 
ture lesson by Dr. Alday, a ' 'Gloria" by the choir, 
another Scripture lesson by Presiding Elder Roe, a 
solo by Miss Blanche Bennett, a violin solo by Sig- 
nor Vitalie, hymn — " Rock of Ages" — announced by 
Rev. W. B. Osborn, reading the resolutions of the 
various sympathizing organizations by Mr. G. W. 
Evans, the sermon by Bishop Fitzgerald, address 
by Bishop Newman, and closing hymn — ' ' Lead, 
Kindly Light," with the Benediction by Rev. W. A. 
Allen, D. D. 

There were many floral tributes, anong the most 
beautiful of which were the cross and crown from 
the Association ; and among the most tender, a 
wreath from Chu Fook and Chu Sing, Chinese 
laundrymen in the Grove, and another from the 
police. Organizations representing almost all the 
social ideas of the age were present in testimony 



158 



FOOTPRINTS. 



of their respect ; while over nine thousand people 
from the Grove and surrounding country, including 
many from long distances, sat in tearful silence 
during the ceremonies. 

Among the other beautiful thoughts and words of 
the funeral sermon, preached by Bishop Fitzgerald 
and printed in the annual report, is the one below. 

' ' It has been well and beautifully remarked that 
'you can best measure a tree when it is down.' 
That is true of most trees; but laying the line 
to-day along this fallen goodly cedar, we discover 
that the measure taken now agrees to a hair's 
breadth with that which was taken while he yet 
stood, towering in the sunlight or breasting the 
storm. As that sunlight fell upon him, he reflected 
the image of God ; and as that storm raged around 
him, he showed forth the glory of God. 

' ' In other spheres he shows forth the same glory 
to-day. As I came hither I passed yonder memorial 
urn, and read the names that are there inscribed, 
and thought of other names besides them ; and 
then I said, ' O the glad welcome that these have 
given to their old leader, now landed on the 
heavenly shore.' Beyond the clouds of this mortal 
life, they and his Elder Brother have welcomed 
him to the cloudless life eternal. We stand this 
side the river, and mourn that he is gone. He 



A TRIBUTE). 



159 



stands with that great multitude which no man 
can number, and cries 1 Salvation to our God which 
sitteth upon the throne, and unto the I^amb.' " 

The eloquent remarks of Bishop Newman, at the 
close of the funeral addresses, were as follows: 

* ' He was the defender of all the institutions of 
the Methodist Church ; he accepted decisions of the 
General Conference with the confidence of an en- 
thusiast ; he complied with the administration of 
our Bishops with faith that knew no wavering; 
and his loyal soul never lost its confidence in the 
perpetuity of all those institutions which have proved 
so beneficial in the past, and which seemed destined 
to an immortality of usefulness. While he believed 
that modifications were possible, and at the proper 
time highly probable, he was content to patiently 
await those great changes produced by an advance 
of knowledge, and the uncertain unfolding of the 
necessities of the times. 

' 1 Himself a man of wide intelligence, a charm- 
ing writer and a beautiful poet, he was attached to 
Methodist literature, and was familiar with the 
writings of those distinguished men who have given 
intellectual renown to the Church we love. It was 
because of this fact he favored all those improve- 
ments at Ocean Grove which contributed to a higher 
culture and purer literature. And if it is true that 



160 



FOOTPRINTS. 



he had not the honor of having founded a college 
in the ordinary sense, he has done more and better 
for the Church of his choice by the establishment 
of a university in Ocean Grove, composed of a col- 
lection of colleges wherein all the elements of 
Christian education are taught and exemplified, and 
made a power in the hands of our ministers and 
for the advancement of society.' ' 

On Tuesday morning the body, attended by 
friends and relatives, was removed b}^ special car 
to Haddonfield, in whose cemetery were laid the 
remains of his daughter, and where he had directed 
his own body to be placed. Upon their arrival at 
the Methodist Episcopal Church a perfect mask 
was taken of his features, after which a special 
service was held in the presence of the citizens and 
clergymen both of the town and surroundings. 
Rev. C. S. Lawrence read the Scripture as the body 
was borne along the aisle. Rev. D. B. Harris, the 
Presiding Elder, continued the ritualistic service. 
Rev. John S. Hiesler offered prayer, and Rev. T. 
S. Miller closed the service at the church, when 
the cortege proceeded to the cemetery, where Rev. 
Dr. A. E. Ballard read the committal service, Dr. 
Hanlon made the prayer, and Rev. J. R. Vankirk 
pronounced the Benediction, and all that was mor- 
tal of Ellwood H. Stokes was hidden from human 



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161 



sight, to be seen no more till the morning of the 
resurrection. 

These memorial services were continued on the 
succeeding Sabbath, under the charge of the Vice 
President, in the Tabernacle, Auditorium and Tem- 
ple. In the Tabernacle the people, with grief-filled 
eyes and broken voices, mourned the departure of 
their great leader, who, Moses-like, had led them 
to this spiritual Canaan. Rev. Mr. Daniels, with 
deep emotion and tearful eloquence, impressed upon 
them the great lessons to be learned from so grand 
a life. 

In the Temple Rev. Mr. Yatman pictured that 
life before the multitude of the young people, as 
an incomparable example upon which their lives 
might be modelled. They could make no mistake 
in following him as he followed Christ. The soul 
of the preacher burned its way through his words 
and vivified his hearers until all felt they were 
hallowing the memory of a Father in the Lord. 
There will no day come in the maturity of those 
young lives when the impressive words uttered 
that morning in the Temple, so dear to them in 
memory of a name yet dearer than the Temple, 
will ever be forgotten. 

In the Bible Class resolutions of saddened regret 
were passed by that great assembly, after which 



162 



FOOTPRINTS. 



Rev. George H. Corey, D. D., of Washington, 
delivered one of the best conceived and eloquently 
expressed eulogisms upon the character and work 
of the departed President which had been called 
forth by the occasion. Messrs. Weden and Van- 
derwater interspersed the different addresses with 
an appropriate duet, and Mrs. C. M. Ward with 
a beautiful solo. Dr. Hani on 's appearance ex- 
pressed as strongly as his words his deep sorrow 
over the loss of his friend. Others followed in the 
same line of sympathetic feeling, and the Class 
left the place with the sense of a loss that was 
beyond expression. 

The great Auditorium was filled with its Sabbath 
worshipers. Most of them had been drawn to the 
spot in the expectation of being participants in a 
devotion which should recognize as its chief fea- 
ture the man who for so many years had been its 
central figure. Soft, tender music was rendered by 
Messrs. Sweeney, Vanderwater and the choir, an 
expressive prayer was made by Dr. S. W. Thomas, 
and an earnest sermon, with an undertone of sor- 
row, was preached by Dr. S. M. Vernon. The 
vacant chair, draped in sable mementoes, occupied 
aforetime by the man beloved by them all, moist- 
ened all eyes with weeping as the hour passed 
away. 



A TRIBUTE. 



163 



The last of the public ceremonials so far connect- 
ing him with Ocean Grove was held upon the 
ground enclosing the Auditorium on April 26th, 
when a magnificent tree was planted as his me- 
morial. Iyoving friends were present, each one 
placing a handful of earth around it, while the 
Vice President said : 

Biy wood H. Stokes: — The hand which has touched every 
memorial tree planted in Ocean Grove ; the voice whose 
music toned with tenderest melody the eulogies of their 
goodness ; the form which moved with the grace of manly 
sympathy from one memorial to another, has come at last 
to his own rightful place in the forestry of God. He is 
already a tree of God's right hand planting, transplanted 
from earth to Eden ; which flourished beside the waters of 
salvation here, and whose roots are nourished by the river; 
a cedar of God's Lebanon here, a spice-wood of God in 
Eden. His branches covered many souls on earth, shad- 
ing them from the summer heat of temptation ; the shade 
the glory of the Father now from the overpowering bright- 
ness which no man can see; a keeper of God's forest of 
souls here to protect them from the evil lion of the jungles; 
a keeper of the crowding palms of the new heavens and 
earth where souls may range who have loved righteousness. 
We would keep his memory fresh as a tree in the spring- 
time, and to make this our memorial of our leader in the 
promotion of holiness in Ocean Grove. 

At these services Rev. W. Abbott made an ap- 
propriate prayer. Rev. G. W. Evans led the 
singing. Rev. A. Wallace and others made suit- 



164 



FOOTPRINTS. 



able remarks, when, because of the fierce wind 
storm which was raging, the service was postponed 
to the evening, where, in St. Paul's Church, in 
connection with St. Paul's congregation, they were 
resumed in forms embracing the sainted dead, whose 
memories were especially dear to Ocean Grove. 

Any delineation of the life of Ellwood H. Stokes 
will be a history of Ocean Grove. He was in its 
life and its life was in him. He walked with God 
and in him Ocean Grove walked with God also. 
It was the staple of his daily thought and action, 
and the burden of morning and nightly prayer, in 
which there were often the signs of prevailing with 
God. In one of the fiercest storms which tore its 
way along the coast in the depth of the midnight, 
he sublimed his prayer into faith, and suddenly 
the winds were still. 

Whatever may come in the future — however much 
the forms and customs may change as they have 
already changed — the names of Ellwood H. Stokes 
and Ocean Grove will stand together while time 
has a history or eternity a record. 



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